EARTHQUAKE!
by Thallium81
Summary: When a virgin is kidnapped in the jungles of Isle Esme, a daring anthropologist rushes in to the rescue. But will they be able to escape the island before falling victim to the predators, natives, and pirates? AH EdwardxBella
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer:  
I made all of this up. I do not claim to know anything at all about any of this. I made up the whole Xtabalz'n culture, the name of which I also invented out of nothing, intending no offence to anyone. I have no knowledge of anthropology, pre-Columbian cultures, South American islands, prehistoric religions, hieroglyphs, survival skills, predators, florae, fauna, fungi, WWII, the IRS, or the function of a consulate. This is ALL FAKE. Furthermore, all publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story is told in alternating points of view.

* * *

Chapter One

Sacrificing virgins.

What the hell? It's the twenty-first century, for fuck's sake. Who sacrifices fucking virgins anymore?

No one. So it took me a while to figure it out. The American Consulate in Rio got the alert about the kidnapping. The kid's parents did the heartfelt plea on television while the jungle grime and anguish was still fresh on their faces. Scrubbed and thin-looking, they did talk show interviews via satellite the next morning. Newspapers ate it up, printing full-page photo collages of the heroic scientists and their poor lost kid. It was precious, but not the stuff an average citizen pays much attention to. We expect the authorities to handle this shit, or a body just turns up.

I never would have given it more than cursory glance in if it weren't for the alarming location of the abduction. The victim was taken from the heart of the jungle on Isle Esme, deep within unexploited lands. There was no local government to appeal to for help because the island had been privately owned since 1956, and it wasn't covered by any recognized authority.

For centuries, the pre-Columbian civilization on Isle Esme had remained untouched by Old World explorers and traders. The Xtabalz'n people were a gloriously preserved sample of a five thousand year old tribe living in pure isolation like a microbe sealed in a Petrie dish. Their matriarchal hunter-gatherer society thrived in their small ecosystem.

Inexplicably, in 1813 the British Naval Survey of islands in the area listed Esme as _uninhabited_. From there on out, the island stopped being mentioned in historical texts, accounts from wayward sailors, and even navigational charts. All of this concerted ignorance had the fortunate side effect of keeping missionaries away, keeping the traditional religion unaltered, and leaving the inhabitants of the island unaffected by emerging technologies for centuries.

When anthropologists picked up signs of human life on satellite photos in the 1990s, Isle Esme became the A-List destination for every student of pre-Columbian civilizations. I caught the Esme Bug myself, as we called it, and pulled every string in the book to get in on a three month expedition there to gather facts for my graduate thesis on early New World recreational drug use.

I remember my first flight to Esme, which I spent engrossed in a collection historical reports about the island. I pored over accounts from seventeenth and eighteenth century sailors who were blown off course during the early days of the cocoa trade. Many had come away from Isle Esme describing a civilization of beautiful women who mutilated their men. Legend spread that the natives there lived to be hundreds of years old by eating 'The Meat of God'.

The disappearance of this legendary people corresponded to the proliferation of piracy in the area. Since then, it had been known as just another 'deserted' isle in the Atlantic- except for a brief stint as a radio outpost in WWII. Oddly, the poor corporal stationed on Esme never came in contact with the Xtabalz'n. To this day, the cement-block army hut erected in 1940 is the only permanent structure on the island. Even the kooky businessman who bought Isle Esme from Brazil in 1956 never built a dwelling there.

So the question was: why the hell would the Xtabalz'n have kidnapped some poor American kid?

The parents, medical research botanists, and their kid had just fallen off the map at the beginning of June. Lost all radio contact.

Eventually, the survivors of the attack made it to the old outpost. They beckoned a cruise ship in the area with a Morse signal from the leftover wireless, pulling power from a hand-cranked generator. They were dropped in Rio the next day, and someone in the American Consulate immediately squashed the real story.

Before an account could be made public, the truth was buried under a generic kidnap drama. The attack, the earthquakes, and the mutilated tribesmen were all whitewashed away- Those were the last two fucking red flags I needed. I started packing immediately. When the government starts lying, I perk up. When they happen to be lying about a civilization I wrote my thesis on, nothing would stop me from getting to the truth.

I hacked some footage of the parents' interviews through a third-rate Brazilian server. Interesting shit. Their team was there to collect and catalogue florae and fungi for a well-funded new multinational research project. After weeks of low-magnitude quakes disrupting the wildlife and agitating the guide, they decided to cut out early with their samples.

As they were packing up for a hike to higher ground, where they hoped to re-establish radio contact with their base on a nearby modernized island, they were taken by surprise.

According to the mother's account of the incident, the jungle was completely still and silent when a sudden howling rose up from all directions. In seconds, the camp was inundated with naked men, their hairless bodies panted with deep rich colors, and their genitalia propped erect from their torsos- Thin braided ropes were laced through their pierced foreskins and tied around their necks.

They grabbed the kid without hesitation and disappeared like apparitions in the night. The silent jungle swallowed them up instantly. The rest of the crew got to the outpost by dawn and made contact with a passing ship. A dinghy picked them up just as another tremor shivered the trees.

Three days later I was on a commercial flight to Rio with my briefcase loaded full of fuzzy photos and color-coded maps. From there, I chartered an airlift to get me to Isle Esme. I spent the flights in research mode, and kept coming back to my three red flags:

1) Isle Esme was inhabited by a very unique pre-Columbian civilization.

2) Isle Esme was experiencing unusual seismic activity.

3) Someone at the Consulate was covering up _something _to do with Isle Esme.

All signs led to one damn thing.

Human virginal sacrifice. Poor kid.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer:  
I made all of this up. I do not claim to know anything at all about any of this. I made up the whole Xtabalz'n culture, the name of which I also invented out of nothing, intending no offence to anyone. I have no knowledge of anthropology, pre-Columbian cultures, South American islands, prehistoric religions, hieroglyphs, survival skills, predators, florae, fauna, fungi, WWII, the IRS, or the function of a consulate. This is ALL FAKE. Furthermore, all publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story is told in alternating points of view.

* * *

Chapter Two

Oh God, oh God, oh God. Why don't they just kill me already? Did they kill Mom and Dad? The last thing I remember hearing was Mom screaming. If they hurt her…

I woke up tied to a low-hanging tree limb, suspended from my wrists and ankles. Even though I wasn't naked, my ass felt exposed dangling like that. My fingers and toes were numb from lack of circulation. If I struggled, the rough ropes chewed at my flesh. I saw large black ants dabbling in the coagulating blood that stuck to the ropes, and I could feel the tickles that indicated the insects covered my entire body.

I overheard the voices and occasional laughter of the people around me, though I couldn't turn my stiff neck enough to see anything more than shapes drifting in my periphery. Apparently, life in the little community went on as usual even when a captive was being eaten by bugs in a nearby tree.

I hurt everywhere. Each body part I concentrated on hurt more than the last one as I mentally took inventory for damage. After a thorough accounting, I realized my head hurt the most. I wondered if they had drugged me with some primitive botanical extract. If so, I wondered if I could get the recipe for Mom and Dad.

I was clearly delirious.

It became obvious I wouldn't be lucky enough to just die quickly or at least pass out from the pain, and I started wondering how long I'd been there. Not long enough for my abrasions to fully scab or for me to suffer yet from dehydration. Though that would come soon enough. Luckily I had just eaten before the attack. I'd had almost a liter of that funky tea. It was strange I didn't feel the need to urinate.

Oh merciful heavens!

I realized then that the boggy smell I'd been trying to ignore was me. No wonder the people were keeping their distance. I stunk of sweat and piss and half-eaten open sores.

At that point I decided that if I got rescued, I'd just die of humiliation anyway.

Why didn't they just kill me?.

As if to answer my prayer, a shuffling footstep approached. A withered but fascinating face breathed over mine, emitting a low humming voice. She touched my dead fingertips with a hot, stinging liquid that seemed to revive my circulation momentarily. Great. This old lady was trying to keep me alive.

She chanted for a while and then I felt warm hard fingertips on either side of my mouth. She puckered my lips open and poured a thick, warm, mealy substance in. It was like a bitter berry gravy, I choked and coughed and felt it trickling over my chin and down my neck. I retched and writhed despite the ropes and pain.

It was all futile. For an eternity, the old woman kept at it, forcing as much of the stuff down my throat as she could. Each time I groaned or coughed or shook my head, I heard laughter from a small crowd behind her. I was the evening sitcom.

Finally she left and I let the heavy weariness and pain take me.

I woke to the return of gentle village noises, and a painful stabbing at my wrists and ankles. In the darkness, I just made out several sets of small glowing eyes.

Well, at least Dad had insisted on rabies vaccinations before allowing me to join the expedition. My wounds had become a buffet for vampire bats.

I watched the tiny flicking tongues darting as fast as hummingbird wings in and out of monstrous little mouths.

I froze in terror watching them, my heart rate threatening to cross the threshold from panic to arrest. Mercifully, I faded out again.

When next I became sensible to my surroundings, an umbered sunlight played peek-a-boo with my eyes. I felt less pain. I felt less of everything. I could no longer guess how many days and nights had passed while I hung withering from the tree.

I was weak, dizzy, empty, and hopeless. I stared at the trails of blood dried along my forearms. Between the bats and the ants, the cuts had been widened significantly. Why was I being fed and kept to suffer? Where had these people come from anyway? We had been on the island for weeks without seeing any signs of human life at all.

Suddenly, the gentle lazy murmur of voices took on a new tenor. The tranquil evening activities were interrupted by something. Something clearly agitating. Something that was approaching me from behind.

I heard a youthful shriek and several baritone voices uttering staccato syllables in a language I could not begin to decipher. And then I heard a low rumble.

The growl was a tentative threat. The big cat had probably caught a whiff of my reeking stench clear across the jungle and had come to investigate. I heard the slapping pads of retreating feet against well-worn paths as the villagers gave the jaguar all the space it demanded. I immediately sensed an understanding in this jungle. Respect the cats, and the toddlers don't get eaten. Tenuous coexistence.

I heard a chuffing breath and felt my shirt ruffle at my shoulder as I was inspected. I was able to tilt my head enough to see the massive black head looming just below me. I stayed quiet and willed my heart to keep beating without getting carried away. The cat nudged my butt and then leapt at the tree.

I couldn't help the small screech at the cat's sudden movement. Luckily, my noise didn't set off a violent reaction. With the cat above me on the branch from which I hung, I could see she was an old female, beautifully black, with a vague dappling on her limbs. In sunlight she would almost look speckled.

She sniffed at my wrists where they were bound to the tree. No doubt she was trying to decide if the blood from the stinging lacerations was tempting enough to eat. Her belly didn't appear either emaciated or pregnant, for which I was grateful. Either might have meant disaster for me. As it was, if she had eaten recently enough, she might leave me alone.

Indeed that seemed to be the case because she stretched herself out on the limb, allowing her dangling tail to slap lightly at my calves. Oddly, I felt like she was guarding me. I heard a mighty shuffling sigh escape her giant nose, and her chin fell to the wood just inches from my lifeless fingers.

Light faded, and my friend and I dozed as a seismic tremor swung me back and forth like a pendulum.

Sometime in the night, the jaguar left to pursue other entertainments, and I woke to the bats again, feasting painfully, nipping and puncturing voraciously. I vacillated for a moment, unsure if yelling to scare them off would enrage my captors, but in the end I couldn't take it. I'd been terrorized for God knows how long by people, ants, vampire bats, and a giant cat. I couldn't take any more.

I opened my mouth to yell, but before a sound escaped, a calloused hand clamped roughly over my lips and silenced me. The movement caused the bats to flutter upward, creating a gentle breeze.

A voice whispered low at my ear. "Hey kid," I barely heard. "You keep quiet and I'll get you out of here." A knife blade glinted as the ropes began to give.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer:  
I made all of this up. I do not claim to know anything at all about any of this. I made up the whole Xtabalz'n culture, the name of which I also invented out of nothing, intending no offence to anyone. I have no knowledge of anthropology, pre-Columbian cultures, South American islands, prehistoric religions, hieroglyphs, survival skills, predators, florae, fauna, fungi, WWII, the IRS, or the function of a consulate. This is ALL FAKE. Furthermore, all publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story is told in alternating points of view.

* * *

Chapter Three

With my strong hunch about the human sacrifice angle and the help of a bored seismologist who was willing to draw circles on my maps, I was able to provide my chartered pilot with coordinates just fourteen hours after getting my passport stamped in Rio.

When I dropped into the canopy on Isle Esme, my chute was decimated in the upper branches. I disentangled myself and rappelled to the surface. After several futile attempts to recover at least some rope or the harness, I gave up and chalked my mark on the tree, in case I somehow could get back to my rigging later.

With my pack on my back, my gun on my hip, and my compass in hand I started my hike while wondering if the kid's family had even cut through enough bureaucratic red tape to get a search party out yet. I stared at the fucking compass and wished I had a guide like last time I was here.

June on Isle Esme meant daylight was at a premium. It was winter, and despite the temperate climate, it would be dark within eight hours. If I couldn't find the Xtabalz'n settlement before sunset, the kid would have to wait another day. It had already been a week.

No time to think about that. I would not be too late. The unusual tectonic activity below the primordial jungle told me that the sacrifice was nigh- nigh but not past. I was counting on Mother Earth to keep her shit together for just another fourteen hours.

That's how long I calculated it would take to get me there, case the settlement, and plan an escape route.

Hang on, kid.

Dusk was approaching when I found my first bit of luck drinking from a ferny rivulet.

__

Panthera onca.

"Hello, kitty," I said cautiously, just to let her know I was there. She looked up at me, her small ears pointing forward and her mouth ajar to taste my scent on the air.

She leapt the little creek in a sudden bound and faced me. Her black fur had an under-glow of red that undulated over her muscle in the fleeting dimples of sunlight. Her tail had an angular crook about an inch from its end.

I hoped she remembered me. "I'm looking for the herd of men," I said. She twitched her right ear slightly and didn't jump at my throat, so I figured we were on solid ground so far. "I'll fell one of those monkeys for you if you can show me the way." I pointed up at the howling canopy, and her reflective eyes followed my hand.

A small quake jarred us then, and the monkeys raised a cacophony that echoed through the jungle. The cat chuffed the right side of her mouth against my knee. I was nearly bowled over by her strength, but I held my ground. A hearty scent mark was as good as a handshake in Cat. I smiled at my great fortune as she slunk past me. She reclined like a queen on a rotting trunk while waiting for me to fetch her a meal.

I knew better than to fire a gun too close to a two hundred pound carnivore with teeth as long as my fingers. Friend or not, she might jump me if spooked. Picking my way forward in the waning light, closing in on the sound of the monkeys' voices, I drew and cocked my gun. I had one shot. They'd scatter through the canopy at the noise.

I aimed for the head of a large male- but not the largest. I wanted to offer the kitty something worthwhile, but I didn't want to impact the group too significantly. Playful youngsters shook the tree branches while I squinted and braced my pistol arm with my other hand.

I fired, and the poor creature fell to earth. Above, his family screeched and took off with a violent flurry of falling leaves and shaking branches. I stalked forward to find my victim, but kitty had been paying attention. She trotted past me, knowing wisely that her superior senses would find him faster than I could.

I turned back to the babbling rivulet and sat on the kitty's vacated tree stump to wait for her. Shortly, I heard the unmistakable tearing and cracking noises that told me she'd found her offering.

I waited for her. When she emerged, she sat before me with half closed eyes and licked her paw and cleaned her face, looking as much like a spoiled housecat as a jungle beast. Her ears stayed pointed at me, even as she seemed to ignore my presence. I took this as a sign that she wouldn't mind hearing more about the mission.

"The local herd of men stole this kid, you see. They think the shakes in the ground will stop with a blood sacrifice." Why the hell was I explaining human superstition to an animal that knew far more about blood sacrifice than I?

When her face was clean, she approached me and nudged her nose and mouth against my leg again. This time I was braced for her. She had no idea how fragile I was compared to her, and I did not intend to let her discover it. When we had known each other before, I'd been able to hold my own while playing and tumbling. She slunk past me with an ear twitch that said, "Follow me."

Several times, in the gathering darkness, she jumped to a low branch and sniffed the air, confirming our course. In general, we remained on a north by northeast heading. I chalked trees when I could pause a moment, but the cat set a grueling pace for my human legs. I nearly tumbled over her when she stopped, listening to the night.

She turned her face to me, met my eyes and swiveled her ears to the north. I listened intently, and after a moment I caught it. The village was near, and the people were occupied in carefree-sounding activities. Thank fuck I was still completely unexpected.

Before I could decide what to do next, kitty padded off right into the village. I nearly hollered at her to stop, but the commotion of her arrival had already begun. I quickly scrambled up the nearest tree and held my breath as a stream of people passed just fifteen meters from me.

Their hushed voices were full of alarm. Two beautiful young mothers carried infants, and small children darted ahead of adults.

For a moment I was really annoyed. I counted seven small kids go by, not including the suckling babes. These people had their own virgins to sacrifice. Why had they gone and stolen a stranger?

When the thread of human flight had ceased to unravel, I climbed higher in my tree and took out my night vision goggles. I scanned the area, making note of what terrain I could see in the darkness. I found the red glow of the cat as she stalked toward an immobile red glow. Eureka.

Several other red blobs hovered in the area- men who'd stayed behind to guard the little town, I guessed. Another small-magnitude quake shook the world briefly. I held on and watched the cat for a moment- just to make sure she wasn't puckish- before getting to work on my maps and checking the GPS.

The GPS was fucking smashed. Cracked screen from impact with the tree. I was screwed.

After some study of the charts and my compass, I decided that rather than going back to the south, we'd be better off going for the abandoned outpost where the kid's parents had signaled help. According to my maps, it was almost due east, a bit uphill, but it was definitely the shortest route to anywhere we could be picked up.

I said a silent prayer that the kid could still walk- otherwise, this would be suicide.

I stowed my gear and checked the lay of the land again. People had approached. Some settled back into their little shelters. I took my scope from my breast pocket to get a more precise view of things. I saw kitty relaxing on a branch from which the kid was dangling, hands and feet tied like a suckling pig on a spit, poor thing.

At that moment, the cat sat up, looked directly at me, and leapt to the ground. The kid didn't even stir. Out cold, I reckoned.

I decided to give the village a chance to settle back down before I stormed in. I didn't want to have to open fire or get myself shot with one of their darts- or get the kid killed.

I watched things through my scope as I rested and ate some of my god-awful rations and rechecked my calculations.

What I saw unfolding in the little town answered more questions than I had even considered asking.

A central fire burned roughly fifty meters from where the kid hung. The matriarch of the town was there, surrounded by all the young children and an old man. Like all the men in the town, he was naked except for colorful body paint and an ornamental rope around his neck that looped through his foreskin and held his penis erect. His ancient testicles dangled like a lewd pendant between his legs.

My ears picked up the faint humming of ancient prayer as he circled the children and the woman stepped away to prod at the kid. I kept my eyes on the old man as he slowly approached each child in turn and punctured the skin above their hearts. I couldn't make out details, but it appeared he drew a symbol on their chests with his pointed spike. He then collected the trickling blood into a cup and released the whimpering or screaming children to their parents.

Yeah, they had plenty of virgins alright, but the tribe was too small for them to be willing to kill any of them. So they'd stolen a vessel. When I saw the elders stir some steaming gruel into the cup of blood, I was unsurprised. The kid would represent all the virgins at the sacrifice by carrying each of them within.

I watched the rest as the captive was force-fed the blood. Retching, moaning, and writhing ensued. Eventually the kid calmed into a deep restful state. I recognized the effects of ritual drugs. The villagers settled down. And I said a silent prayer to whomever might be listening.

I double checked all my gear and climbed down. I had decided to circle the settlement and try to get to the kid from the east side. In and out the same way, with any luck we wouldn't be spotted. I wished to hell the cat had waited for me to be ready before causing her distraction.

I picked my way through the dense undergrowth as silently as I could and managed to make it to the tree within an hour.

When I got there, I noticed three very alarming things:

1) The kid was covered in vampire bats.

2) The kid reeked to high heaven.

3) The kid was way older than the photos and plaintive parental tear jerking had led me to believe.

I crept close, ready to sweep the bats away when I noticed the kid had awoken and was ready to scream at the vampires. I slapped my hand up as fast as I could and said, "Hey kid."

The bats flew up, and I started cutting the ropes. I loosened them just enough at first to let some circulation flow. "You keep quiet and I'll get you out of here," I promised.

I looked over the branch toward the fire to make sure the coast was clear. I held my breath by that point because of the overwhelming stink. When I was as sure as I could be that we weren't being watched, I slashed the ropes.

He landed on me with a thud, and I could not hold him up. We toppled together and I covered him with my body and rolled us into a nearby cluster of ferns.

He was shaking all over, and I was afraid at that point that he would shriek or cry, so I held his face to my chest and smothered him in all the calming stillness I could muster.

"It's okay, Edward," I said. "Keep quiet til your arms and legs work and then we need to haul ass before they notice you're gone." The kid looked at me with crazed, grateful eyes. He seemed to understand, though. I felt him flexing and circling his ankles while he opened and closed his fists.

"You got enough feeling to run about five hundred meters?" I knew we'd have to do this in baby steps, but we couldn't afford to wait. He looked uncertain but almost instantly set his jaw and nodded. I slackened my hold on him and pushed him to his knees. If he could at least crawl under his own power I'd get us the hell out of there. This was no scrawny twelve year old kid that I could sling over my back if I had to. He was fully grown and probably had at least thirty pounds on me.

I crawled out past him, checking the immediate area. When I saw nothing, I grabbed his hand and tugged him forward with me. We ran, neither gracefully nor quietly, but we made it more than five hundred meters, and as yet there were no sounds of a chase.

I gave him a leg up into a tree and then climbed after him. I tried to get him to go higher, but that was just asking too much of his depleted body. I made him as comfortable as possible on the wide branch, and I held my canteen to his lips.

He drank like he was in the Sahara, and I had to pull the water away. I leaned him back with my camouflage rain poncho to cover him. The insulating blankets in my pack would be too easily spotted, so for not the poncho would have to be enough to warm him up. He needed rest before anything. I wanted to tend his wrists, but he was shivering from shock and lack of nutrition. I stayed by him, touching water to his lips occasionally and trying to get him calm.

In the moment when he drifted off to sleep I realized that I needed a Plan B to save Edward Cullen. The plan was not foolproof. It was based on a series of hypotheses about what was going on in the area, but at least it should work if we could not get to the outpost and get picked up.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer:  
I made all of this up. I do not claim to know anything at all about any of this. I made up the whole Xtabalz'n culture, the name of which I also invented out of nothing, intending no offence to anyone. I have no knowledge of anthropology, pre-Columbian cultures, South American islands, prehistoric religions, hieroglyphs, survival skills, predators, florae, fauna, fungi, WWII, the IRS, or the function of a consulate. This is ALL FAKE. Furthermore, all publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story is told in alternating points of view.

* * *

Chapter Four

"Are you Lara Croft?" My voice sounded strange to my ears.

She looked at me, briefly lowering the scope from her eye. "This isn't a game, kid. Hush." She went back to her engrossing surveillance.

I dozed in and out of hallucinations. I always woke either hot or cold, and each time I opened my eyes, the only thing I saw was the beautiful woman who'd rescued me. She was there, feeding me water, placing small dry bits of food against my lips, and always watching the surrounding jungle.

"What do you see?" I dared to whisper. As each other time she looked at me, I was uncertain if she was an illusion. Her deep eyes unsettled me. Were they familiar or were they a dream?

She leaned in close, and something about the line of her features startled a deep memory. "I'm making sure they don't figure out what direction we took. So far, they're hunting for us to the south. I left a trail on my way up from that direction. They noticed my trail markers, and the search party is following them." She peered out over her shoulder again. "It's only a matter of time, though."

I tried to take all of this in, and the effort wearied me. I closed my eyes and let her presence lull me back into the restful darkness that had been foreign for too long.

I woke again to the familiar painful stinging of my open wounds. I cried out, and her roughly calloused hand slapped over my mouth, "Shut up, kid."

I focused on her then. She was balanced over the tree limb cleaning my wounds with a powerful smelling antiseptic.

"You've got infections. I waited til you were strong enough not to go into shock again," she explained in a raspy whisper.

I nodded and gritted my teeth. When she had cleaned and wrapped my wrists and ankles, I felt the cold sting of isopropyl alcohol against my calves as she began wiping down my legs.

"Kid, you reek, and you're filthy. I'm not going to put you in water in this state, but you can't stay like this, and I can't stand breathing you any more."

And there was that mortification I had anticipated.

"I'm gonna cut your clothes off and bury them."

I felt my eyes widen in alarm at this. I began shaking my head in protest.

She slapped my thigh, and the surprise of her strong smack arrested me. "Get a grip, Edward. You don't have anything I haven't seen before, and I know that none of this is your fault." She paused, staring at me intently with her dazzling brown eyes until I nodded.

"I have a pair of shorts and a tee shirt for you, okay? Your boots and socks are relatively unscathed." She continued talking to me in a low, soothing voice as her giant serrated knife destroyed my heavy canvas trousers.

"What's your name?" I asked. It was irrelevant, I knew, but I was too curious about her to stop the question. There was something vaguely familiar about her face.

Before she could reply, the tree began to shimmy, and she threw her body over mine, encircling the branch to keep me from rolling off.

"Rock-a-bye baby," she said in a low wry whisper at my ear.

When the branch finally stilled, she leaned away from me.

"I'm Dr. Swan," was her curt introduction.

I leaned up. I shouldn't even have been able to lift my head, as weary as I was, but surprise triggered an untapped reserve of strength in me. As soon as she said it, everything clicked, and I could barely contain myself. "I know you! You're Dr. Isabella Swan, the famous anthropologist."

She shoved me down, "Take it easy, kid. Save your strength." She paused and peered at me. "How have you heard of me?"

I felt my face flush. "I… I've been following your work. I've been put on a waiting list for a seat in your class next year."

"Hunh," she huffed, and continued cutting my clothes away.

I kept my eyes closed in embarrassment while she cleaned the filth off my legs. She must have had a jumbo pack of wet wipes. At first I tensed at every cool touch, but eventually, I gave in to the soothing feel of each stroke.

I let the calm, gentle petting lull me until I heard her chuckle.

"Well, you're alive after all. You're what? Seventeen?"

I lifted my head and looked down at the cloth in her hand stroking my raging erection. I tried to scramble away from her, but my feeble limbs betrayed me. My hormonal delirium robbed me of all sense, and I nearly tumbled us both out of the tree.

"Shit, Edward. Calm the fuck down." She pressed me back against the solid tree trunk until I relaxed again. Her eyes were stern and a little frightening.

We stared each other down for a few moments until I capitulated and lowered my eyes. I kept my hand cupped over my penis. I wanted to correct her. "Eighteen!" I wanted to yell. "Nineteen in a matter of days!" But my mouth would neither open nor close.

"You're safe with me, Edward." I nodded. "Since you're apparently strong enough now, I want to move you a little higher and clean the back side of you."

Oh, Christ no! "I'll do it myself," I said harshly.

She did not reply, and after several moments I looked up at her. She had a concerned pucker to her lips, but she nodded and handed over the packet of antiseptic cloths. I waited til she scrambled to another branch, and I finished my pathetic sponge bath. In the end, I was too exhausted again to climb to a higher branch. I simply reclined on the plastic camouflage rain poncho that had been covering me, and I pulled a flap of it over my groin with a flush of modesty.

Dr. Swan must have been watching because she reappeared at that moment with a pair of drawstring shorts. I accepted them with a grateful nod and looked away in shame as she gathered my stinking bundle of dirties and disappeared again.

Dr. Isabella Swan.

I'd dreamed about meeting her. Ever since I read one of her books seven or eight years ago, I'd known I would follow in her footsteps. She had been my idol and my guiding light. I'd convinced Mom and Dad to let me join this expedition simply to bask in the chance to see and smell and touch the things that she had touched before. I had been looking for clues about the reclusive islanders while my parents collected their plants in hope of writing a killer essay that might secure me one of the coveted seats in Dr. Swan's classroom.

As many times as I had gazed at her smiling face on the dust jacket of that first book, nothing could have prepared me for meeting her in person. For one thing, aside from having her hair swept back in a long braid behind her head, she looked exactly like her photo. I knew she had to be in her mid-thirties, but she looked just the same as she had a decade ago when she rose to fame in the insular little world of historical anthropology. Her groundbreaking studies on the history of primitive nutrition in matriarchal societies had caused quite a stir. Even before I was quite old enough to be interested, I had heard my parents discussing her work with admiration. I was probably only eight years old when Mom declared that this new upstart would change the course of Dad's research.

And that's exactly what happened. I remember Dad carrying the book with the smiling beauty on the back of it. The book lived on his desk for years. When I was twelve, and Dad was away for several months collecting specimens, I turned to that book to comfort my loneliness without him.

And the fire was ignited within me. Forget following in my parents' footsteps. I suddenly knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I would study the history of human dietary habits .

From then on, I spent hours in libraries reading her books. She had several others by then, and I took note over the passing years that the covers no longer credited I. M. Swan in small letters. They had evolved to boast Dr. Isabella Swan in a font larger than the book titles themselves.

I was revived from this reverie by the object of my admiration herself. She handed me my boots and a tee-shirt.

"They've started fanning out the search. We need to move as far as you're able."


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer:  
I made all of this up. I do not claim to know anything at all about any of this. I made up the whole Xtabalz'n culture, the name of which I also invented out of nothing, intending no offence to anyone. I have no knowledge of anthropology, pre-Columbian cultures, South American islands, prehistoric religions, hieroglyphs, survival skills, predators, florae, fauna, fungi, WWII, the IRS, or the function of a consulate. This is ALL FAKE. Furthermore, all publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story is told in alternating points of view.

* * *

Chapter Five

Thank fuck the kid was relatively strong. We made it to the ground without breaking anything. He still had caked blood smeared over his face and neck, but at least a good deal of the stench was gone. I shoved him eastward, and he obediently staggered forward on his wasted legs.

I felt bad for the kid. His parents couldn't have known what they were getting him into. But by the time they were participating in the sham search for their lost twelve year old child, they had to have sold their souls.

As the poor kid huffed and stumbled in front of me, I began assembling the pieces.

The first part was innocent enough. I totally bought the parents' story up to the part where Mom held up that photo of a gangly tween to the camera. That told me three things:

1) The authorities had already given the kid up for dead because a REAL manhunt would need a REAL photo to be circulated.

2) Someone had advised the parents that the only way they'd get the international cooperation necessary to carry out a search across political boundaries was if they tugged heartstrings and bent the truth a little.

3) Despite believing Edward was already dead, someone wanted a fully funded all-out dragnet on this island.

This kid was a red herring to get access into this jungle. But for whom? For what?

After twenty minutes of steady hiking, Edward fell over, and I let him rest in a heap until his breathing slowed.

"I need to get you up off the ground," I told him.

He nodded, and sweat dribbled into his eyes. Poor thing. I stood him up, knelt down and lifted his foot onto my shoulder. "I'm gonna stand up fast, and you're gonna reach that branch and hold onto it, okay?" He was silent. "Edward, can you do it?"

"Yes."

So, once again, I scrambled him up into the canopy where he collapsed in a gasping heap.

"You've got a fever, Edward." I said after brushing hair away from his clammy forehead. He nodded at me again. We wouldn't be able to travel any further until I got him hydrated and his temperature regulated. I handed over the canteen and let him drink while I dug out a hypodermic pen.

"This is penicillin. Are you allergic?"

He answered with a firm shake of his head and held his arm out to me bravely. I stabbed, he winced, and then we settled into silence while he dozed.

After about an hour he opened his eyes alarmingly wide. "Mom and Dad?" he asked in a frantic voice while reaching out to me.

"They're fine. They're absolutely fine," I shushed him and stroked his brow. "Your parents are safe at home worrying about you. Get some rest so we can get you back to them."

He calmed and drifted back into his fever haze.

I took time to study his filthy face. Grime and stubble notwithstanding, he had nice features. Great bone structure. He'd filled out really nicely compared to the junior high picture I had in my pack.

I checked our coordinates and supplies and decided I could leave him sleeping while I found some water to refill the canteen. I emptied it down my own throat and dropped a purification tablet into it before draping the strap around my neck and jumping to the soft earth.

I anticipated a stream about a mile to the north. There was a closer rivulet back in the direction of the village, but that was too risky, so I trudged ahead, going over everything I knew about Isle Esme.

There were no mineral deposits of note, no fiscally feasible mining opportunities. There was no agriculture. The ecology could not sustain more than a moderately sized hunter-gatherer population. Moreover, the entire island was part of a dormant underwater volcanic range, though the recent seismic activity suggested that the volcano wasn't so dormant any more. What was on Isle Esme that was worth using poor Edward Cullen as a pawn?

Or… what did someone _think_ was on Isle Esme?

When I heard flowing water, I looked up from my musing and was greeted again by an old friend.

"Deja vu, kitty."

She rumbled at me.

"I don't suppose you'd be willing to throw the man-herd off our trail, would you?"

She seated herself on her haunches and regarded me regally, as if to ask, "What's in it for me?"

"I'll feed you again," I offered. "Maybe you could just stick with us for a couple of days while we're moving slow?"

Her head tilted.

"In case the man-herd catches up with us." I hoped she understood what I was getting at. "And if they do, perhaps you could scatter them backward?"

She exuded nonchalance and licked invisible dirt off of her shoulder, showing me her massive canines. A reminder. Her leverage.

"Along the way," I added, "you just let me know if you want my help with food." I acknowledged that she didn't need my help killing prey. But I knew the tastiest creatures stayed out of her path, and the ability to shoot a little treat down from a tree was all I had to offer her.

She stopped her bath and met my eyes. Agreement. I held out a hand and she stroked her nose against my knuckles and took off in the direction I had come.

I hurriedly filled the canteen and wetted my handkerchief and then took off after her. Edward would fall out of the tree if she went to get cozy with him before I could explain the situation.

When I caught up to her, she was on the branch with my pack, staring at the kid while he slept. I sighed in relief and ducked back into the undergrowth to pee before climbing back to our perch.

I checked on Edward before digging into my rations. He was sweating and shivering still. I had to wake him up and get him to swallow some Tylenol. I took out my wet hanky and scrubbed the caked mess out of his thin beard. He opened his eyes. They were glassy with fever, but they glowed a captivating shade of malachite in the afternoon light nonetheless. He focused them on my face with a fierce look of demented adoration.

"Shit, Edward. Are you getting a Florence Nightingale complex over me?"

He blushed.

Well, at least that would make Plan B a lot easier. I just had to get his strength up enough.

I fed him the pills and water and some nutrient-rich oatcakes mashed up in more water. I knew it was flavorless, but after a few days of living on human blood he needed any nutrition he could get.

Of course, if I was being honest about it, the blood was actually more nutritious than American fast food. And the thick brew mixed with it was probably a starchy root meal - fiber and minerals. He could have thrived on it if not for the infections and vermin depleting his health.

Suddenly, his eyes widened, and his face blanched. Edward lifted a hand and pointed over my shoulder in terror.

"It's okay, kid," I tried to calm him down. "She's with me. It's okay." I petted his arm and spoke in soothing tones. After several moments, his gaze shifted from the cat to my face.

"What are you? Catwoman?"

I laughed. "Yes. I'm a combo of Catwoman, Lara Croft, and Florence Nightingale."

He stared at me, color returning to his face, and I heard kitty yawn behind me. I rolled my eyes. She was showing off her teeth for him because of his dumb-ass reaction. Her sense of humor was going to make this an interesting journey.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer:  
I made all of this up. I do not claim to know anything at all about any of this. I made up the whole Xtabalz'n culture, the name of which I also invented out of nothing, intending no offence to anyone. I have no knowledge of anthropology, pre-Columbian cultures, South American islands, prehistoric religions, hieroglyphs, survival skills, predators, florae, fauna, fungi, WWII, the IRS, or the function of a consulate. This is ALL FAKE. Furthermore, all publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story is told in alternating points of view.

* * *

Chapter Six

Catwoman, Lara Croft, Florence Nightingale. And to be honest, a good dose of Indiana Jones, but with deep brown eyes, pouty lips, and the most alluring body I'd ever had pressed against me. I stared at her and the jaguar and secretly wished for another earthquake that would knock the predator out of the tree and cause Dr. Swan to throw herself over me again.

Her linen shirt was ragged and dirty, and a tear at the right shoulder showed off the top of a toned arm. Her hair was escaping from her braid in all directions, and her pink lips were chapped and peeling. Even so, everything about her drew me in.

I watched Dr. Swan as she consulted her maps. The giant jaguar stretched on a branch behind her and slept peacefully. I dozed, sweating and shivering with the fever until I felt her hands on my face again. They were warm and gentle, even though her skin was careworn and hardy.

I'm not sure how long I floated in and out of sleep, but when she held the canteen to my lips, I lifted myself and embraced the lucidity.

"Hey there," she said. "Rough dreams?" Her warm eyes looked like melted chocolate in the dusky light.

I didn't remember any dreams, so I just shook my head. She handed me a chalky cookie that tasted like stale oatmeal. I was reminded of the Elf bread that Frodo and Sam survived on during their trek to Mordor.

"This is like Lembas Bread," I said.

Dr. Swan stared at me for a moment, and I opened my mouth to explain it was from _The Lord of the Rings_, but she spoke first.

"Jesus, Edward. No wonder you're a virgin."

"_What_?"

"Honestly, I think that was the geekiest thing I have ever heard anyone say." Then she hammered the irony home, "And I'm a _scientist_."

I know I blushed. I felt my ears grow hot. I looked down at my hands, but she nudged me.

"You do realize that's why they abducted you, right?" There was no taunting tone in her voice. "Come on, kid. You said you'd been following my work. Surely you've been using your brain while you were hanging from that tree."

I ate hungrily and contemplated. "They were keeping me alive," I said.

"Yes," she confirmed. "But why?"

Why? I'd asked myself why they didn't kill me. But I never satisfied myself with an answer. My study of anthropology had taught me that an unusual-looking captive or trophy of war may be kept for worship or sacrifice. They were clearly not worshiping me. I'd been passively brutalized and barely kept alive. None of them paid me any attention except the old woman who force fed me the disgusting gruel.

"Sacrifice," I answered her.

"Very good, Mr. Cullen." She addressed me like I was already her pupil, and a thrill charged through me.

At that moment, a low rumble erupted around us, and the tree shivered violently. Dr. Swan grabbed me again, like before, and I threw my arms around her in surprise. Over her shoulder, I saw the jaguar's massive claws dig into the tree as she too fought to keep her perch.

The earthquake lasted longer than any of the previous ones. I felt myself slipping.

"For fuck's sake, kid, hold the goddamn tree!"

My instincts fought against letting go of her, but I saw her fingers struggling in the flaking bark. I grabbed onto the branch just before my boot slipped over into nothingness. I heard the cat's screeching roar and closed my eyes. After surviving abduction and captivity, after escaping eminent sacrifice, after burning with fever and inflection, I was going to die from a fall.

But I didn't die. The quake ended, and I opened my eyes. Dr. Swan's face was grave. "You alright, there kid?"

"Could you not call me that?" I snapped.

She laughed. "Alright." She grabbed my arm and pressed me back against the tree trunk where I had been settled before. "Your fever's a little better," she told me.

"Yeah."

The jaguar leapt down to the ground and licked herself.

"Don't go far," Dr. Swan spoke to the cat, who looked up at her voice as though she knew she had been addressed. When she resumed licking her paws, Dr. Swan looked back at me.

"Alright, Edward," she said as she pulled the gauze off of my wrists. "I didn't mean to upset you with the nickname. It's just that the photo they released when you made the news made you look younger than you are. I started this whole thing thinking you were a little kid."

"Sorry to disappoint."

"Don't be bitter." Dr. Swan bundled the stained gauze in her fist and reached for her pack. She pulled out a folded photo and handed it to me while laying fresh gauze and a tube of antibiotic ointment on my thigh.

I stared at the picture. "This is from when I was twelve."

"That's what I guessed."

"Why wouldn't my parents have released a recent picture?"

"I'm still trying figure out the details." She cleaned the sores on my forearms with alcohol. "I think they were convinced that the only way the governments involved would allow a search party up here was if they jerked a few tears over your story." I watched her smear the ointment and gauze me up.

"I don't get it," I confessed.

"It's okay, Edward. I don't really get it either."

"Are you part of the search party?"

"No," she peered into my eyes as she cleaned up the infected lacerations on my ankles. "I came for the sacrifice."

It took me a minute to decipher that she meant she'd figured out why I was abducted. So we were back to discussing my sex life - or lack thereof.

Only neither of us said anything.

Dr. Swan moved back to her equipment. She took a thin white towel out of her pack along with a small black case. Then she produced a pistol which she deftly disassembled on the towel. I watched her clean her gun in silence.

After a while, curiosity got the better of me.

"How'd they know?"

Dr. Swan kept working. "Know what?"

"Virgin," I whispered.

For a long while I didn't know if she would answer. Maybe she hadn't heard me. I was too ashamed to repeat it any louder. Then she snapped the magazine into the pistol, checked the sight, holstered it and looked up at me.

"There are many kinds of magic, Edward."

In confirmation, the jaguar clambered up to us and took up her position on the adjacent limb again.

Magic.

"So tell me, kid- Edward. Why are you a virgin?"

"What?"

"You're healthy, attractive… your dick is more than adequate and fully functional-"

"Dr. Swan!"

"This is no time for prudery. Are you gay?"

"What?"

She eyed me levelly. "Will you stop asking 'What'?- it makes you sound moronic."

"I'm not gay." I answered.

"Well then," she climbed back over to me with sinuous agility. "Let me tell you about Plan B."


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer:  
I made all of this up. I do not claim to know anything at all about any of this. I made up the whole Xtabalz'n culture, the name of which I also invented out of nothing, intending no offence to anyone. I have no knowledge of anthropology, pre-Columbian cultures, South American islands, prehistoric religions, hieroglyphs, survival skills, predators, florae, fauna, fungi, WWII, the IRS, or the function of a consulate. This is ALL FAKE. Furthermore, all publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story is told in alternating points of view.

* * *

Chapter Seven

"Let me tell you about Plan B," I told him. His confused eyes crinkled up at the edges, and I leaned a little closer, really studying his face.

"What's Plan B?" he asked.

I held his gaze and smiled, "How old are you anyway, Edward?"

"Nineteen… soon."

"Nineteen soon? Then I think Plan B is definitely our best bet." I touched his chin.

"What's Plan B?" he asked again, whispering then.

"Eliminate your usefulness," I bent my head toward his as I said this, intending to land a gentle kiss on his mouth.

But he jumped and nearly dove right off the fucking tree. "_What_!?"

I grabbed his arm. "Honestly, Edward. Your vocabulary leaves much to be desired."

"What do you mean by 'eliminate my usefulness'?" he asked with a new intensity in his eyes.

"I mean that I will relieve you of your virginity and the tribe will stop hunting you. Then we can get the hell out of this jungle before some South American mafia storms in to do whatever it is they're using you as cover to do."

"What?"

I couldn't help it. I slapped him. If he responded with that interrogative one more time, I'd let the natives toss him in their volcanic crater.

"Ouch." He rubbed his cheek.

"You ready for Plan B, Edward?"

"Sex?"

"Yes."

"Mafia?"

"Maybe," I shrugged. "Maybe pirates. Who knows?"

"What was Plan A?"

"Get in. Get you out."

"Can't we just do that? Keep escaping?"

Was it wrong that I was offended by that question? Okay, so I had fourteen years on him, but still. My students sometimes gave me moony looks. I wasn't unattractive. I worked out. I had jumped into this fucking rain forest to find him, after all.

I moved back from his personal space. "Are you strong enough to hike through this jungle?"

"We should at least _try_ Plan A," he insisted.

I nodded and tossed the poncho at him. "Get some rest, then. You're gonna need it."

Edward leaned back on his branch obediently and watched me pull my goggles from my pack. I slid some gloves on and climbed upward.

"Where are you going?" his low voice followed me up from branch to branch.

"I need to see if I can spot a landmark and look for signs of our hunters." I didn't look back at him as I climbed.

"Your cat is looking at me," he called warily.

I chuckled. "Make sure he doesn't fall out of the tree, kitty," I answered.

Up in the canopy, all that met my eyes was more trees until I broke through into fresh cold air. From the top, I saw three disturbing things:

1) There was a great deal of fog to the south, indicative of volatile geothermal activity.

2) A heavy bank of clouds was rolling in from the west, ushering in at least several days of rain.

3) A helicopter circled widely to the north.

I watched the helicopter for several minutes, calculating the diameter of its path by timing the size of the circle it flew. Was it searching for Edward, or was it using his abduction as an excuse to check out whatever was on the ground a few miles to the north? I noted the helicopter's area on my map. That would need further investigation.

I descended carefully. I found Edward still awake but cowering under the poncho against the tree trunk. Kitty had joined him on his limb and was stretched into his personal space.

"She has a wicked sense of humor, doesn't she?" I commented.

"I'm not laughing," he whispered.

"Kitty, give the kid some space." She sat up and yawned at him and then let me nudge her off the branch as I landed. "You're supposed to be sleeping, Edward." I touched his forehead. No more fever.

"Your feline friend's little _joke_ woke me right up."

"Well, while you've got the adrenaline pumping, you feel like covering a few kilometers?"

He sat up in wary alarm as I took the poncho and folded it into my pack. "Something wrong?" he asked.

"Rain's coming. We're probably going to be stranded as it is, but we may as well try to get out of here."

Edward immediately got up and made sure his boots were laced securely. "What about the guys following us?" The energy exuding from him was right back to terrified, as though the jaguar was breathing down his neck again.

"Which ones?" I asked as I secured my pack in place.

"The ones who want to kill me!" He was definitely alarmed.

I needed that adrenaline, so I pushed his buttons as I lowered myself to the ground, "Which ones?"

Edward sprang down after me lithely and followed on my heels as though the fever was a distant memory. "Dr. Swan! What do you mean 'which ones'? How many people want to kill me?"

I kept up a grueling pace as long as he was distracted from his weakness by fear. He jogged along at my side with all the energy of a nineteen year old. I couldn't help but rue the fact that he wasn't keen on Plan B.

It wasn't long before he was just breathless enough to stop asking questions. I trudged on, eager to see how much ground we could cover before nightfall. I kept one ear trained on his labored breaths and the other scanning for creatures in the underbrush.

Every now and then, kitty slunk ahead of us, scouting the trail and then slunk back again to check our trackers. She was covering a lot of ground, and I knew I'd need to feed her soon. At least the denseness of the jungle would prevent the sound of my gunshot from carrying too far.

The foliage changed and our going got slower. I was forced to hack at vines with my knife, and even the cat's progress slowed. When she jumped directly in front of us, though, I knew we were in trouble.

Edward tried to stifle a yell of surprise when kitty suddenly blocked our path. I laid a calming hand on his shoulder while I watched her ears, eyes and tail.

"They've picked up our trail, Edward."

"What?"

I called forth my patience and turned to him. "The tribe is hot on our heels. They're better at navigating this terrain than we are, and they're going to swoop in on us like when they originally abducted you." He nodded, but the look of utter confusion never left his features.

I shoved the compass into his hand. "Whatever happens, you need to keep heading east. There's an outpost about twenty kilometers from here where you'll be able to send an SOS."

"What about you?" His voice was sheer panic.

"I'll get there. Don't worry. But we may have to split up."

"Dr. Swan, I won't let you risk your life for me." Edward straightened his back and stood at his full height. He was tall, and the chivalry was endearing.

"I already have, you idiot. Keep moving. We're not splitting up unless they actually catch us."

I had to respect him for his spirit. He kept trudging on despite his obvious fatigue. Kitty disappeared again. She was coming and going at faster intervals, clearly agitated. The tribesmen were obviously much closer than she liked.

It was less than an hour later when I heard her most fearsome growl echoing through the canopy. I shoved Edward to the ground just as a feather-tipped dart buried itself deeply in the bark of an adjacent tree.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer:  
I made all of this up. I do not claim to know anything at all about any of this. I made up the whole Xtabalz'n culture, the name of which I also invented out of nothing, intending no offence to anyone. I have no knowledge of anthropology, pre-Columbian cultures, South American islands, prehistoric religions, hieroglyphs, survival skills, predators, florae, fauna, fungi, WWII, the IRS, or the function of a consulate. This is ALL FAKE. Furthermore, all publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story is told in alternating points of view.

* * *

Chapter Eight

Dr. Swan shoved me into a leafy fern, drew her pistol and disappeared in the direction of the jaguar's growl.

I should have just had sex with her.

She was the hottest woman I had ever seen in person, and she was definitely the smartest woman I had ever spoken to in my life. And if I was honest with myself, I'd been a bit in love with her ever since my voice had changed.

But in the moment when she propositioned me, I was too intimidated to act on the years of latent desire. The woman of my dreams had swept into a remote jungle, rescued me from certain death, and offered me sex.

Some part of my brain told me I was in a drug induced coma somewhere. Or I was dead. Either way, with her red lips and her dark eyes and her wild hair and her tantalizing bosom all so close to me, all I could hear in my head was my father's voice saying, "Son, if it seems too good to be true, it probably is." And there was no way I would be able to have sex up in a tree with Dad's voice in my head.

Now I may never get the chance. All signs pointed to me dying a virgin. Maybe it was fate. I had been predestined to die a virgin before I turned nineteen, and the Fates were converging on me in this jungle.

Either I'd end up in a ritual sacrifice, or I'd get lost and die of exposure, or some creature would eat me. Or some armed goons would sweep in and take me out. Or I'd be murdered by pirates.

Why would pirates go out of their way to visit Isle Esme?

Why would any South American mafia goons want to take me out?

Maybe Dr. Swan had been pulling my leg on that one.

Dr. Swan.

Doctor Isabella Swan.

She was out there: armed, sexy, and dangerous while I cowered in a fern.

Unacceptable.

I got to my feet just as a pistol shot rang out, the sound ricocheted off the dense verge surrounding me, and my heart's blood ran cold. I started moving in the direction that I thought the shot had come from, but then I heard the jaguar's roar and its echo bounced around, confusing me.

I heard men's voices and the shuffling of the undergrowth, and I suddenly felt exposed and foolish. What would be the point of standing in the open, unarmed, when Dr. Swan had risked her life for me?

I became sensible of the warm metal of the compass in my hand. Head east, she'd said. Before I could steady my hand enough to get a reading, I heard her voice.

"Edward, for fuck's sake, get down!"

I dove into another fern and listened. I heard the cat, and I heard the men. It was disconcerting that after several minutes I still did not hear Dr. Swan again.

I practically held my breath as I lay in the cool damp shadow with my eyes shut tight. The ground vibrated with the multitude of footsteps in the vicinity, and I prayed that one set of them belonged to her.

When two more shots popped in the distance, I became sensible of the fact that I really needed to relieve myself. Then I remembered the mortification of my condition when Dr. Swan had found me. And I relived the moment when her hand hovered near my penis. Just when I was falling into regret over turning down Plan B, I felt the eruption of another earthquake.

It was different on the ground. I was tossed back and forth, agitated like clothes in a washing machine. I lost the compass, and tried to feel around the ground for it, but I was just bounced around like a kernel of corn in a popper, unable to control where my groping fingers landed. I felt branches fall to ground around me. I heard the scurry of myriad frightened creatures. I nearly pissed myself.

Luckily, I held it in until the shaking stopped. I waited, breathing hard from the kind of terror that only comes from suffering at the immutable hand of Nature. I stood and found the compass several yards away. I pocketed it and then urinated with a sigh of sweet relief.

I was just palming the compass again when I heard her voice in the distance. "Edward!"

"Yes!" I answered. "I'm here!" I looked around in all directions, unsure of the origin of her voice.

"Edward!?"

"Dr. Swan! Are you hurt?" I kept turning, straining my ears to locate her. I was beginning to panic again.

"No!" She sounded even farther away. "Are you?"

"No!"

"Edward can you whistle!?"

Huh? "Yeah!"

"Well then do it so I can find you!"

I stood and whistled the William Tell Overture as loudly as possible, turning forty-five degrees at each stanza so the sound would be projected in all directions. The noise was getting feeble because of my dry mouth by the time I heard her again.

"Gotcha."

I turned to see her breaking through a clutch of vines to my left. I ran and grabbed her hand and pulled her into a tight hug.

"Thank God," I murmured. She hugged me, too, and for several moments, I lost myself in the warm sensation of gratitude and relief.

I looked down into her concerned brown eyes. She had a scratch on her cheek and a new rip in her shirt.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

She smiled and nodded and pressed her palm against my face. "You?"

"Fine." Then it occurred to me that when she ran off with her pistol cocked she hadn't been alone. "Kitty?"

"She's fine. She's having a bit of fun chasing them off."

"Good." I cleared my throat. Even though we had released each other from the hug, she still stood very close to me. "Did you, er, kill any of them?"

"Don't be absurd, Edward."

"I heard shots."

"I just wanted them to panic and not blow poison darts at me. It worked."

I pulled the tail of her handkerchief out of her pocket and dabbed at the blood on her cheek.

"What now, Dr. Swan?"

She reached behind her and pulled the canteen to the front. She took a long drink before handing it to me.

"Now, Mr. Cullen, we try to gain ground before they regroup or the sky opens up on us."

She took off, somehow knowing the way without the compass, and I swallowed as much water as I could.

"Dr. Swan," I called while catching up to her. "I've been reconsidering the merits of Plan B, and I would like to compliment you on the value of its expedient simplicity."

She paused mid-stride and spoke. "Are you proposing that we shift our current efforts to Plan B, Mr. Cullen?"

"Yes, Dr. Swan." I kept my eyes on hers. This was no time to show fear.

A corner of her lip curled. "In that case, Edward, I think you'd better start calling me Bella."


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer:  
I made all of this up. I do not claim to know anything at all about any of this. I made up the whole Xtabalz'n culture, the name of which I also invented out of nothing, intending no offence to anyone. I have no knowledge of anthropology, pre-Columbian cultures, South American islands, prehistoric religions, hieroglyphs, survival skills, predators, florae, fauna, fungi, WWII, the IRS, or the function of a consulate. This is ALL FAKE. Furthermore, all publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story is told in alternating points of view.

* * *

Chapter Nine

I took the pack off my back and handed it to Edward while consulting the map. We needed fresh water before the rain stirred up the creeks, and we needed to have some kind of shelter from the impending storm before nightfall.

Edward was looking pale. He was holding up admirably, considering everything. As for me, my back was aching from carrying the pack for days, my wrist was throbbing from the kickback of my gun, and I was starting to feel run down from eating the meager rations we had available.

Since kitty was still scattering the tribesmen in the opposite direction, we had time to make water and shelter our top priorities.

Then I would divest Edward of his usefulness to the bloodthirsty locals.

We hiked as quickly as we could. The foliage took on a more primordial edge the farther east we went. Trees had thicker trunks, ferns had wider fronds, and insects large enough to fell a housecat rattled the underbrush.

Darkness was approaching, and Edward was haggard and unnerved. I refused to let my worry show, but we needed a break, and we needed it fast.

Just when the low boom of distant thunder began to sound above the noises of startled creatures calling out above our heads, we were finally granted a bit of good luck. A wide gully materialized before us - a carved out canyon with a fierce flowing tributary below.

I sat Edward down on the cliff edge and made him drink the rest of our water while he acclimated himself to the height. It wasn't nearly as high as my climb to the top of the canopy had been, but to my inexperienced companion, it was formidable.

I donned my climbing gloves and hammered a small hook into a sturdy rock. I had a good length of reinforced line, but the rappelling harness I'd left behind would have been a godsend for Edward. As things stood, we'd have to rough it.

"You ready for this?" I asked him.

He stood and steadied himself against a tree trunk. His blood sugar was low. I took an energy bar from the pack and walked up to him. I placed it against his lips and looked into his eyes.

"Trust me, okay?"

He chewed and nodded. Brave terrified boy.

I lifted the pack and immediately felt his warm hand on my forearm.

"Let me carry it for a while."

"Tomorrow," I promised. "I don't need your balance impaired right now." I reached up and ran my fingers through his hair. He sighed in acceptance, and I shouldered the pack.

I rigged some hand and foot holds for him with my spare bootlaces, and I showed him how to maneuver himself down the reinforced line with them. He comprehended the concept immediately, and I was reassured.

Thunder boomed louder, and the sky was nearly dark when I sent him over the rim of the canyon. I watched his excruciatingly slow and careful descent for several minutes before double checking the security of the anchor and joining him on the line.

The sky opened up and I cursed loudly.

"Whatever you do, Edward, don't fucking slip!" I called, unsure if he could even hear me over the drum of fat cold droplets pounding all around us. My ears received no answer, and I tilted my body to look down at him.

And my hand slipped.

I fell several meters before my fingers and toes found purchase in the rapidly dissolving cliff side. Small rocks tumbled out of the mud and pelted me. Pain seized my already aggravated wrist. I had probably sprained it.

I stayed still for several moments, concentrating on balance, before I looked around for the line. The heavy slanting rain was blinding, and I quickly realized I would have to climb down on my own.

I looked up to try to gauge how far I'd covered, but water filled my eyes. I said a silent prayer to whomever might be listening and began feeling for hand and toe holds.

It was an eternity before I heard him.

"Bella! I'm going to move the rope toward you! Reach for it on your left!"

Thank fuck he had made it to the ground in one piece. And I was close enough to hear him over the roaring rain and river water. I felt the line slap against my left elbow and carefully reached out to it. I wrapped both fists around it and pushed off from the muddy wall. I bounced my way to the ground in a matter of seconds and then slipped in the mud at Edward's feet.

He picked me up and we embraced. The way we wrapped our arms around one another was a celebration that we were still alive. It was one of those hugs that was photographed in New York on VE Day. Perfect strangers, lovers, friends, and heroes all celebrating their common humanity and the existence of their own heartbeats. Edward squeezed me tight, and I wrapped my arms around his narrow waist, resting my forehead on his collar bone while the torrential rain washed over us.

"The water is already rising," he said into my sopping hair. I turned to look at the rushing brown water climbing menacingly up the bank.

"We gotta move!" I grabbed his hand and took off toward a natural bridge upstream. I'd seen it from above, before it was flooded over. Now, there were merely stepping stones jutting up from the raging run-off. Across that treacherous path, a waterfall from an adjoining stream married up with the tributary, and chances were a cave would be found lurking somewhere behind the delta of conjoining water flows.

We no longer had rope, but I had a length of twine I carried in case a strap or buckle on my pack needed quick repair. I tied a slipknot in each end of it, thrust my uninjured wrist though one loop, and tightened the other over Edward's right hand.

Thus inseparable, I jumped to the first rock visible over the torrent of brown water.

The crossing was rough. Both of us slipped in at least once. I felt terrible for dragging Edward up by his bloodied wrist, but the pain and damage that we both incurred was far better than death.

Once across, we could make out a black emptiness high up on the canyon's face. Eureka!

While the cliff we had just escaped had been a slick mud wall, this bank was built up with large boulders. The current had obviously been depositing the refuse of millennia on this side of the fierce little river.

We scrambled over slick, mossy boulders. Edward was shaking and shivering from fatigue and wetness. My fingers, knuckles, elbows, and knees bled freely. But neither of us was willing to succumb when shelter was within reach.

When I finally felt the absence of pounding rain on my scalp, the relief I felt was akin to receiving clemency from torture. I sat in the small pool at the mouth of the cave and tugged on the twine around my wrist until Edward tumbled in on top of me.

We lay catching our breaths for a moment before I scrambled to loosen the red-stained noose from his arm. His fingers on that hand were purple from lack of circulation, so I massaged them while we both sat basking in the glory of our shelter.

He began to fall asleep before I could drag him to drier ground.

"No, no. Come on, Edward. Let's not sleep in a puddle." His legs barely held him when he stood. My own were shaky and numb, but we soldiered on, neither of us willing to admit how close to death we skated.

The cave narrowed and then opened up. In the pitch black, I felt our way along the slick walls. They were mercifully dry and smooth with centuries of calcium deposits. When Edward fell behind me, I paused to dig out my light and we were greeted by a magnificent sight.

A maze of stalactites and stalagmites partitioned a wide space. Most of the cave would not accommodate our standing heights, but along the edge that we had been walking, the ceiling rose beyond the reach of my beam.

I barely had the strength to coax Edward to his feet once more, but I managed to get him to a small natural alcove where we could try to insulate our body heat in the enclosed space.

We both fell asleep instantly.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer:  
I made all of this up. I do not claim to know anything at all about any of this. I made up the whole Xtabalz'n culture, the name of which I also invented out of nothing, intending no offence to anyone. I have no knowledge of anthropology, pre-Columbian cultures, South American islands, prehistoric religions, hieroglyphs, survival skills, predators, florae, fauna, fungi, WWII, the IRS, or the function of a consulate. This is ALL FAKE. Furthermore, all publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story is told in alternating points of view.

* * *

Chapter Ten

I woke up with my face against a warm soft pillow and my shoulder against cold hard stone. I opened my eyes, waiting for them adjust to the darkness, but the gloom was impenetrable. I couldn't see anything.

But I could feel many things.

I was wet. I was cold on one side and clinging to a warm body on the other. The pillow on which my head lay was breathing. My body ached all over. My mouth felt dry and foul. I began remembering the rain, the river, the exhaustion, and Dr. Swan. Bella.

"Bella," I shook her waist. I lifted my head and immediately missed the soft warmth of her breast.

"Bella, are you alright?" I ran my hand over her, searching for her shoulder to tap. The strap of the backpack was still in place.

I got to my knees. The cold air of the cave was alarming on my wet skin. I felt down her arms, and when I reached her hands, I found that one held a small light. I twisted and tapped it until I got it to turn on.

The walls were luminescent, like mother-of-pearl, but with veins of multicolored crystal artfully decorating then in random patterns.

Bella's face was deathly pale, but her body was warm, and her breathing was even. I sat her up, removed the pack from her back and settled her down again. I was already exhausted just from that effort.

I propped myself against the wall of the small cave-within-a-cave and dug through our supplies.

There were four MREs and six of the small energy bars like the one she had shoved in my face earlier. There was a zippered baggy with crushed oatcakes, aka Lembas Bread. Seeing that we had food was such a relief to me I almost cried. I was ravenously hungry and so tempted to rip into one of the meals, but I held back. Who knew how long we would be stranded? If one of us became ill, the food would need to be divided accordingly. I couldn't just dig in while the woman who saved me slept.

In addition to the food, she had the usual medical supplies, flares, fire starters, tinder, fishing gear, wet and dry bio-degradable towels, and tea bags. She also had waterproof bags for her ammo, her electronics, and a tiny toolbox.

I took out the waterproof matches and phosphorous-coated cotton balls, wanting to start a fire, but we had no fuel. At this rate, I'd happily burn my clothes just to be warm again, but they were probably too wet to catch.

If there were a second light, I'd have ventured out without waking her. As it was, I was loath to leave with her light in case she woke up while I was gone.

"Bella," I nudged her shoulder gently. "Dr. Swan?" Was she unconscious? I shook her more roughly and leaned down to place my ear over her heart. Her arms wrapped around my head, and she moaned. With my head against her chest, the sound and vibration of her voice filled me with warmth.

"Bella, we need a fire."

She groaned and released me. I sat back on my heels and looked into her eyes.

"I'm going to go find something to burn," I told her.

She nodded and said, "You look like hell."

I did my best to smile at her. Somehow, she didn't look like hell at all. She looked pale and exhausted and beautiful.

"Can I take the light?" I asked.

"Uhh," she sat up slowly, wincing with the effort. She was probably as sore as I had been when she released me from that tree branch. That seemed like it had happened a century ago. "Let me use the light first and go pee. Then you can take it." Her voice projected her physical agony, and I felt awful for her.

I waited in the darkness for a few minutes until she limped back into our chamber. I wanted to say something comforting, but guilt silenced me. Her pain was all my fault. All of this was all my fault.

"Take the canteen," she instructed. "Get rainwater, not runoff." She took the same position by the backpack that I had occupied earlier. "See if you can find some branches on the lee side of boulders that aren't totally soaked."

Every word she said accentuated her exhaustion, and I was concerned, "Bella, are you okay?"

"I'll be fine as long as you don't fall in the fucking river," she smiled at me, and it was warm and sad and sweet and lovely. Without thinking, I leaned down and kissed her lips before I turned out of our small cave.

The feel of her mouth on mine elevated my body temperature and energy level exponentially.

I got drenched again in no time. I filled the canteen first and then collected as much wood as I could carry, though it was all soaked. When I got back to Bella, she had unfolded two Mylar-coated blankets and was using the red light on her scope to see as she tacked one of the blankets to a stalactite that hung about a meter out from the mouth of our cavelet.

"We'll light the fire here," she pointed to the area between the Mylar wall and the mouth of our cave. "The heat will be reflected back in on us, but the smoke will be able to escape so we don't asphyxiate." Her shaking hands fumbled with her tiny hammer, and I took it from her.

"What do you need me to do?" I asked.

She sighed and sank to her knees. "Just hold me a minute. I'm so tired and cold, and I can barely move." I folded my body around hers on top of the poncho she had spread on the cave floor. We shivered together until I felt her breathing heavily again in sleep.

I tucked the second blanket around her in my stead and tried to figure out what to do next. I could easily have slept, but I was too cold and too hungry and too terrified that if I closed my eyes they'd never open again. So I focused on fire.

I used the hammer and her knife to split the wood into narrow strips, and I stacked them in a hollow pyramid formation in the area Bella had chosen for our hearth. I took the kindling and used it as sparingly as possible and began striking the matches.

It took me a patient half hour before a feeble, crackling, splattering, smoky fire lit up Bella's sleeping face. Beautiful, brilliant, powerful, incredible woman, adventurer, scientist, engineer. Just as she had predicted, the smoke flowed up past the stalactite and into the larger cavern, leaving our hovel breathable.

As I warmed up, I willed myself to stay awake and keep the fire burning. I did my best to dry out the stock of wood by holding it over the weak heat and then setting it aside piece by piece. I wanted to take off my shirt and dry it, but I knew I needed to gather at least one more double-armful of wood before bothering with that. When I was relatively sure the fire would stay lit on its own for a quarter of an hour, I headed out into the cold once more.

It was mostly dark outside that time. Lightning and thunder broke all around, and the raging river sounded like an ecstatic concert crowd. I picked my way back to the area where I'd found some wood before and again took as much as I could physically carry.

Back in the cave, I laid the new wood out in hopes that some of the water would dry on its own, and I took off my boots and clothes.

Bella's Mylar wall really was helping to warm our room. I tended the fire, not shy about my nudity as long as she was asleep, and then I climbed under a corner of the blanket to wake her.

"Bella, it's warmer now. You need to dry off and eat." She stirred more easily this time, but I had to repeat myself after she opened her eyes. Her eyes drifted over my naked chest and the small fire before she dragged herself up.

She told me to break out two of the MREs while she scooted closer to the heat and unlaced her boots.

I looked away when she rose up to remove her heavy canvas pants and linen shirt. I could not help but notice while we ate that one of her bra straps was stained with blood from a cut on her shoulder, and she was covered in bruises.

We both ate hungrily but slowly. She kept reminding me to take small bites and pause frequently to keep from getting sick. When we finished, we passed the canteen back and forth a few times, and then Bella added wood to the fire before pulling me and the Mylar blanket on top of her small cold body.

"Rest now," she said sleepily as she wrapped us up together. "Then Plan B."


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer:  
I made all of this up. I do not claim to know anything at all about any of this. I made up the whole Xtabalz'n culture, the name of which I also invented out of nothing, intending no offence to anyone. I have no knowledge of anthropology, pre-Columbian cultures, South American islands, prehistoric religions, hieroglyphs, survival skills, predators, florae, fauna, fungi, WWII, the IRS, or the function of a consulate. This is ALL FAKE. Furthermore, all publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story is told in alternating points of view. This chapter contains content intended for mature audiences.

* * *

Chapter Eleven

We probably slept for over twelve hours. I woke up sore and achy and still tired but infinitely better off than I had been before.

The fire had burned itself out, but Edward and I were wrapped around each other, warm and cozy if not comfy. My back popped a hundred times as I sat up, and I longed for the hotel bed in Rio that awaited me.

I raked the ashes of the fire. Thank fuck Edward had some survival skills. He'd done a great job when it got to the point that I could no longer take care of us. It took a while for me to get a new fire going. All the wood was still wet except for a few pieces that he had thankfully split earlier.

Once the warmth was radiating through our luminescent little closet, I took my tooth brush and the packet of soap outside with me. I bathed myself as best I could in the cold rain. I removed my undergarments and washed them out. I held my mouth open to drink my fill of rainwater. Then I ran back to the fire, dripping and shivering.

Edward still slept as I draped my things over the edges of our makeshift wall. My wet pants were still in a heap where I had dropped them with my shirt, so I spread them out to dry. I combed through my hair with my fingers, shifting myself around and around the fire until I no longer shivered, and then I took the dry tee shirt Edward had been wearing before and slipped it on.

I kicked his foot, "Edward." He shifted slightly. "Edward, you can't keep sleeping." I kicked him again as I dabbed some antibiotic ointment on my various cuts and skinned knuckles. My sprained wrist was swollen, so I took some Tylenol to relieve it and my aching back. I kicked Edward a third time, harder. "Get up!"

"What?"

I frowned at him playfully. "Don't start that again." Holding out the toothbrush and soap to him, I said, "Go bathe quickly in the rain. Wash all the blood away, and then get back in here before you start shivering."

He sat frozen for a moment.

I stared at him, waiting for him to follow my instructions.

"But," he said, "I'm naked."

"Oh, for fuck's sake." I closed my eyes and covered them with my hands for good measure. He took the cue, and I heard him scrambling out from beneath our blanket.

While he was gone, I unfolded my collapsible tin cup and brewed us a hot cup of tea to share. He reappeared just when the water started to boil, poking his head around the makeshift wall. I tossed my super-absorbent nine-by-fourteen towel at him. Edward caught it, frowned, disappeared for a moment, and then entered the cave with it draped over his package.

"I've already seen it," I said, not looking up at him.

He sat next to me without comment and took the cup of tea I proffered. His eyes closed in ecstasy as he sipped at it, and I once again let my eyes wander over his handsome features. Despite the short, scraggly beard, the dark circles under his eyes and his somewhat wasted frame, not to mention the many, many cuts and bruises, Edward was quite attractive.

I offered him an energy bar, which he took and ate while I sipped at the steaming cup of tea. I ate, too. We were quiet and tranquil as we reveled in the warmth of the little fire.

When the tea was gone and more wood had finally caught fire, I dressed Edward's wounds, offered him some Tylenol, and then dragged him to our dreadfully uncomfortable bed.

His eyes were wide and cautious. "Plan B?" he asked.

I nodded and pushed him onto his back. The little towel still clung to his nether-regions.

"You don't have to," he whispered. "If you don't want-"

I took his face in my hands and bore down on him with an earnest gaze. "They're never gonna stop, Edward. As soon as the rain lets up, they'll return to where we lost them before, and they'll reach this canyon within hours."

He looked nervous, so I stroked his furrowed brow, "I'll do whatever it takes to make you safe again."

"Plan B?" His whisper was barely audible.

"Plan B," I agreed.

I tugged my tee shirt off and folded it into a little pillow, which I placed behind his head.

While leaning forward, I kissed him. He was already shaking. I placed his hot palms on my hips and tugged at his lips with my teeth. After a bit of coaxing, he began to kiss me in return.

Our lips and teeth and tongues worked together, hot and slow and wet. I felt his body begin to relax as my hands dragged over his neck and shoulders and ribs. I massaged him gently, and his hands learned quickly. When he pressed his strong fingers into my tender back muscles, I groaned and melted into him.

Our mouths opened wider as our flesh grew hotter. The kisses were deep and hungry. Tongues and saliva and swallowing and biting. Our hands roamed, and we breathed in unison.

My world became a buffet of sensation. I smelled his soapy clean skin and the damp smoke of our fire and the musty dirt of our boots and the moldering grime of our clothes. I felt his hands and hot breath, his grabbing arms and legs, his excited cock, and his low vibrating moans. My ears were full of him and the rustling of our blanket and the faraway rushing of water behind the crackle of flame and the pop of water exploding inside the wood.

And I tasted him. Salt, smoke, sweat, and a touch of tea and chocolate.

He rolled over me and I screamed out, which made him jump about a foot away with a terrified look in his eye.

"My back!" I gasped. "I have to be on top." I pulled his arm, trying to control the wince on my face. He understood and lay back again obediently.

I straddled him and ran my hands over his shoulders and arms while I let him stare at me. The look in his eyes made me wonder if he had ever even seen breasts before. I took his hands and placed them on my chest encouragingly. In the firelight that reflected off the Mylar and the quartz all around us, his green eyes glowed like a cat's. He massaged my breasts and stared and licked his lips, and I leaned forward to brush a nipple against his mouth.

I encouraged him with my mouth on his face and my voice on his skin. He learned quickly. He was hard as a rock against my thigh while he nipped at my breasts. His breath shuddered violently over my skin, so I decided to move the plan forward before he came all over our stomachs.

I slid my hot wet slit up and down the length of his erection. He bit his lip and held his breath.

"Try to hold out a minute, Edward," I murmured as I positioned myself over his tip. His eyes were wide on mine.

I leaned my forearms on his shoulders and dragged my thumbs over his jaw as I slid onto him, keeping eye contact the whole time.

"Breathe," I said as I kissed his collar bone. I felt a puff of air against my hair as he exhaled. I impaled myself on him fully, reveling in the length and girth that admirably out-strapped the last man I'd been with.

I eased up slowly. I expected this to be over any second, so I was just taking what I could from it, enjoying all the sensations, learning him better for next time. His fingertips dug into my hips as I slid down again. Every movement I could make from there on out would be a bonus.

And as I expected, he exploded inside of me with the next rise and fall of my hips. His guttural exclamation echoed violently through the cave while I let the white hot happiness warm me. He held me so tight I couldn't have bounced again if I had wanted to. I did want to, but this one was for him.

For several moments he held me still, and he stayed sheathed in me, until his breath fell back to panting rather than gasping. Then I moved off of him and sighed away my dissatisfaction as I lay my head over his heart and relaxed.

Edward hugged me against his body and rubbed circles in my aching back and kissed my hair. His hot wet essence trickled out of me to form an uncomfortable little puddle in our bed that would transform in the night to patches of crust on our flesh and fabrics.

I licked at his chest halfheartedly, still too exhausted and in pain to try to coax anything more out of him immediately. I'd saved his life, at least. And for a little while, that would be enough.

* * *


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer:  
I made all of this up. I do not claim to know anything at all about any of this. I made up the whole Xtabalz'n culture, the name of which I also invented out of nothing, intending no offence to anyone. I have no knowledge of anthropology, pre-Columbian cultures, South American islands, prehistoric religions, hieroglyphs, survival skills, predators, florae, fauna, fungi, WWII, the IRS, or the function of a consulate. This is ALL FAKE. Furthermore, all publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story is told in alternating points of view. This chapter contains content intended for mature audiences.

* * *

Chapter Twelve

Oh, God. Oh, merciful Lord in Heaven. Oh, Baby Jesus!

It was soft and wet and tight, and there was a vacuum effect that was just fantastic. And she didn't laugh or make me feel like I had done it wrong, even though I knew it should have been better and longer and fiercer. I should have given her an orgasm.

At first, I had been too worried about touching her. I didn't want to touch her in the wrong ways. I didn't know what would be too hard or too soft or too eager. And I didn't know where to start and where to finish. But she made it all okay.

And she looked beautiful.

She just looked amazingly beautiful the whole time.

I wondered if she would let me try it again.

And maybe again.

I couldn't help myself. Her crotch just radiated the most perfect humid invitation. And her breasts stabbed into my ribcage. And her rhythmic voice danced over my throat as I massaged her shoulder blades.

I couldn't help getting hard again.

I slid my hands down her back and over her soft buttocks.

"Edward," she murmured. "I can't even hold myself up right now."

I kissed her forehead and massaged her and let her drift to sleep.

When I awoke again, her body was pasted to mine with our sweat and fluids. I had a raging erection and a mouthful of her hair. Bella was splayed over me, breathing softly, drooling slightly, and absolutely perfect.

I pulled her hair to one side and combed through it with my fingers. I wished the fire had not gone out. I wished that I could watch her sleeping face. After some time with my fingers running through her hair, she sighed and shifted, brushing her thigh against my penis. I groaned.

"Mmmm," she said. Her hand drifted downward and she grabbed onto my erection like it was a microphone. "Morning, Edward." I gasped from the sensation, and she rubbed her thumb lightly over the tip, causing me to groan even louder.

Bella placed dozens of wet little kisses across my chest before she planted her chin upon my sternum.

I leaned to kiss her, but she pushed away like magnet with uncomplimentary polarity.

"Hygiene first, Edward," she said before sitting up in the darkness.

I wished again that I could see her. I wanted to feast once more upon the vision of her breasts- rising and falling over her ribs - tapering off to her waist - blossoming out to her hips… I wanted her body and her mouth and her hands again.

But she teased me. She brushed over my shaft and then rose from our warm, crinkly, uncomfortable Mylar bed.

I exhaled heavily when the light popped on and then faded as Bella walked away.

I breathed in and out, willing my penis to calm down. I barely felt the stone that cut into my shoulder blade or the numbness of my lower back pressed into the cave floor. I bent my knees and assessed the soreness of my muscles, the blisters on my feet, and the stiffness in my limbs. But none of those negative things mattered in the wake of having sex with Isabella Swan.

She returned just after I sat up. I squinted in the sudden light but then caught a glimpse of her naked torso before she pulled the tee shirt over herself. She smiled at me and handed me the toothbrush, and when I rose to walk outside, I wasn't even embarrassed that I greeted her at half mast. She pretended not to take notice of it as she arranged the smallest pieces of wood on our hearth.

I brushed my teeth in the never-ending cold rain and drank as much water as I could. I scrubbed at my flesh with my fingertips, inspected my abrasions in the grey light, urinated, gathered more wood, and took time to notice that the downpour was pelting with slightly less force than before.

I felt better. More alive. Less afraid. I believed with all my spirit that the tribe was no longer after me. And I trusted that Bella would get us to safety as soon as the rain abated.

She was amazing.

She brimmed with strength and spirit. She was sexy, smart, witty, and brave. She could rappel, rock-climb, shoot straight, and make love like some kind of international super-spy.

I was besotted.

I dragged my hands over my face and laughed into the empty landscape.

I was in love.

I gathered up the soggy logs and ran back to her, forgetting I was cold and naked, forgetting she was my teacher, forgetting I should be ashamed for my pathetic performance with her.

I hurried back to her. She looked like a goddess of light bending over the hesitant flames. We smiled at one another, and I knew I must be patient. I sat down while she coaxed the fire to life, and I saw her tea cup at her side, and I knew I must be patient. I took up the knife and hammer and worked on splitting the wood, just so I would have something to do while I was being patient.

After a wonderful hot cup of tea and a handful of Lembas bread crumbs, impatience overwhelmed me.

I grabbed her.

"Bella." I captured her lips in mine, and she allowed me to devour them. I pulled her to my lap and slipped my hands inside her shirt and explored her whole face with my mouth while she dragged broken fingernails lightly over the nape of my neck. I shivered and moaned, and Bella pressed closer.

"Edward," she breathed, while her hips began to writhe in tight circles on my lap. "Let me teach you."

I ripped the shirt off her back and gathered her hair over one shoulder so I could lather hot wet kisses over her throat.

"Teach me everything," I whispered.

Heat radiated from her body as she held my face against her breasts again. I stayed upright this time, my back perched against the smooth calcite wall. As dampness began to collect between her legs and at my urethral opening, she undulated over me, spreading the slick warmth over us both.

I moaned and took her lips again. Our kisses were deep and frantic, heavy and profound. My tongue learned the lay of her mouth. I memorized which of her canines jutted outward and how the one wisdom tooth she retained rubbed against the top gum in the back of her mouth.

She reciprocated the study with her tongue tracing every secret it could find. Meanwhile, her hands roamed freely over me. At times she took my fingers and placed them on her hot flesh. She taught me that I didn't need to be afraid to touch her. No limb or crevice, freckle or curve was out of bounds to me. I learned to touch them all.

She grabbed my hand and slid around to rest her back against my chest and taught me to touch her even more. Occasionally she twisted her chin back over her shoulder to kiss my mouth as she held my sore wrists gently in each hand and guided my fingers over her skin.

Bella traced my fingers over her nipples, around the heaving curves of her breasts, and lower across her stomach. She took my fingertips through the moist curls of her pubic hair and then pressed them into the slick folds of her labia. She jumped when she rounded my thumb over her clitoris, and she whined when she thrust my fingers into the slippery heat of her vagina.

Once she had taught me to touch each sensitive part of her, she released my wrists and reached up to run her fingers through my hair while I nipped at her shoulder and the side of her neck and continued my digital exploration. Bella was made of wonderful sticky velvet.

I learned to make her moan or whimper or writhe with the slightest motions. I took full advantage of this intoxicating power and played in the soft warmth between her legs until my fingertips began to prune.

Her breathing responded to each touch. I monitored the rise and fall of her chest by keeping my left hand on one nipple or the other at all times. The fingers on my right hand delved then circled then traced in a continuous pattern at a steady pace that suspended us both at the edge of frenzy.

Press. Thrust. Glide. Rub. I kept my movements in sync with her heavy breaths as her hands moved down to my thighs. With shaking arms, Bella lifted herself off of my lap and positioned her welcoming wetness over me.

She enveloped my throbbing dick in her slick, hot vagina with one sweeping thrust. We both yelled out as she slammed against me and consumed me whole.

She leveraged herself with palms on my thighs and rose and fell upon me. I aided her with a solid grip on her waist and bounced her up and down, thrusting forward and back, incrementally increasing the power and the tempo with every slap of her skin against mine, until I felt an overwhelming tightness squeeze and knead me within her.

We orgasmed at once, crying out together in a single voice that echoed through the cavern like a thousand ecstatic angels singing across the heavens.

I spent myself within her in several hot twitching spurts of glory, and her body shimmied and curled and unfurled with each one while she grunted and moaned and gasped along with me. If the sensations I had reveled in the night before had been the best I had ever imagined, this was surpassing the very essence of imagination itself. This was ecstasy intensified a hundredfold!

When the shuddering subsided, Bella fell back upon my chest, still whimpering with each rapid exhalation. She unclamped my fingertips from her skin and wrapped my arms around her shaking body.

"Edward," she breathed. "Edward, kiss me."

I did as she instructed. "Bella," I repeated. "Bella, Bella, Bella." I kissed and kissed and kissed, and then she pivoted in my lap so she faced me again. She smashed her breasts against my chest and threw her arms around my neck and kissed me harder than ever before.

This was lovemaking.

This was perfect.

This was right.

This was us.


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer:  
I made all of this up. I do not claim to know anything at all about any of this. I made up the whole Xtabalz'n culture, the name of which I also invented out of nothing, intending no offence to anyone. I have no knowledge of anthropology, pre-Columbian cultures, South American islands, prehistoric religions, hieroglyphs, survival skills, predators, florae, fauna, fungi, WWII, the IRS, or the function of a consulate. This is ALL FAKE. Furthermore, all publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story is told in alternating points of view.

* * *

Chapter Thirteen

Edward busied himself with the fishing line while I spread all my maps out over the floor of our small cave. We'd been able to keep a fire going all day, and we both felt immensely better just from being warm and dry and fed and hydrated and rested.

And sex was a wonderful curative.

Still, we were hungry for something more than oatcakes and power bars. I was loath to squander the last two MREs while our position was still so precarious. And our other rations were short. Hunting was not a viable option in the torrential rain. Who knew how long the weather would remain entirely prohibitive of outdoor movement? A review of our meager means was depressing, at best.

Still, Edward refused to be disheartened. He insisted that he had read a book as a child that detailed several species of blind cave grubs, crustaceans, and fish, so he had harvested a sapling to use as a fishing pole. He very nearly had the line and hook attached.

When he was ready, he stood shirtless in the glow of the fire and smiled at me.

I rose to my knees, preparing to stand, when the ground began to shake.

The noise of the quake was deafening in the cavern. The echo magnified the booming, and we both yelled and crouched and covered our ears. Edward chivalrously threw his body over mine and tried to cushion me as we were tossed around within the small hard confines of our cave.

I had told myself when choosing to camp underground that the wonderful formations had clearly been intact for thousands of years. Thus, they'd be invincible in a quake.

The structure may have indeed fared well, but we were tossed around like croutons in a salad. When the shaking subsided, Edward kicked the stray pieces of burning wood that had been scattered. One of my maps had caught fire, so I pounded at it with my wadded up linen shirt while Edward poked the glowing embers back into place with his fishing pole.

"Well," he said, once we were sure he'd collected every burning stick and log. "I guess that could have been worse." He knelt down to me. "You hurt, Bella?"

"No." I was more concerned about my map. I smoothed out the charred corner and tried to remember if anything important had been written over that area.

Edward placed a fingertip under my chin and lifted my eyes to his face. "Bella, were you burnt at all?"

I smiled at him. Concerned and besotted, he tugged at my heartstrings. Nineteen and thirty-three. Was this folly? Could I really let myself love him?

I kissed him on his poor cracked lips, and he left delicious soft warmth on my mouth when he pulled away. I think I really could let myself love him.

"See if you can get the fire restarted before you go spelunking with your fishing pole."

He simply nodded and then moved to comply.

I liked that he wasn't chatty. I liked the way his arms moved. Despite all the cuts and bandages on his wrists and fingers, he was deft and graceful. Though he was almost painfully thin, the wiry sinuous muscles in his back rippled under the skin. The middle of his spine sported a deep purple-black bruise and I wondered if it was because I'd pounded him into the hard ground while we had sex. That thought filled me with guilt.

I pulled my eyes away from Edward and returned to the maps. There was something there. I could feel it. I had photocopies of old land surveys. I had an antique sailor's map with the cartographer's original notes written in Spanish. I had satellite images, seismological topographies, and my own crude sketches that I made during my three-month stay on Esme in my college days. And in all of them, I sensed some important pattern that was just out of my grasp.

When a sad little fire threw splintered light all over the crystalline walls, Edward left me to my studies, vowing to return with sustenance.

After a few hours alone, I was beginning to seriously worry about three things:

1) Edward had been gone much too long.

2) If the rain didn't let up enough for us to hunt, we'd eventually die of starvation in the cave.

3) Once the rain did let up, the natives would be on us again in hours, and they might be mighty ticked off that I stole Edward from them. Twice.

Without a doubt, the most important of the three worries was Edward.

I tried to distract myself and employ some practiced patience. I looked at my maps in the dim firelight until my eyes burned. Then I took my tiny red laser beam to guide me outside so I could pee and collect water and more wood. I didn't bother to wear clothes on the expedition. I just took off the dry tee shirt and panties I had taken to wearing around our camp and left them behind to enjoy after being cold and wet outside. I split the wood and begun trying to dry it out a bit when I got really panicky.

I'd sent Edward on his excursion with my stub of blue chalk so he could mark his path and find his way back to me. He had agreed not to walk more than an hour into the caverns.

Since he had been gone considerably more than an unsuccessful two hour round-trip would warrant, I had to assume he had either actually found fish, or he was trapped or injured or dead.

I went so far as to get fully dressed in my ragged shirt, pants, and boots; I even strapped on my gun, pocketed a first aid kit, and rolled an energy bar up in my sleeve. I set out with a hunk of burning wood acting as a pretty fucking inconsequential torch, and I began looking for blue chalk marks on the smooth cave walls.

I found one, and I silently thanked him for remembering to do it. I kept walking and found a second, third, and fourth. After that, the torch fizzled out and was useless, I pointed my red laser at the wall looking for a smudge of chalk, but before I found one, I heard Edward's voice.

At first I thought he was moaning low in pain, so I stumbled forward toward him. Then I realized he was simply speaking, as to a friend, in a perfectly calm and amicable tone. Oh lord, he had psychological disorders or an imaginary friend. Thank fuck I found this out before really falling for him.

I continued to feel my way forward nearly blind in the narrow curving corridor, and soon his low voice was joined by the sound of his footsteps.

"Edward," I called out gently, not wanting to startle him.

His voice and footsteps stopped abruptly.

"Bella?"

"Yes. I'm here," I answered.

The beat of his feet picked up speed, and I could see a faint glow from his light. "What are you doing here?" he asked, sounding slightly frantic and still out of reach.

"I was just worried about you." I turned off my laser beam and reclined against the wall, waiting for him to cover the distance with his proper light. As he drew closer, I caught the unmistakable smell of fish in the air.

"You found some!" I exclaimed, and then cringed, because my voice was amplified and echoed.

"I told you I would," he laughed.

Finally, he caught up to me, and we embraced. I felt such relief that he was alive and unscathed, and he seemed elated to touch me again. We kissed very deeply, greedily, appreciatively, and I only pulled away when I felt a familiar nudge at my knee.

I looked down. "Kitty!"

"She helped with the fishing."

I looked from her elegant smug face to the clutch of fat white fish in Edward's hand to the proud smile spread across his lips.

"So that's who you were talking to," I mused.

Edward simply laughed and kissed me before wrapping an arm around my shoulder and guiding me along behind the lazy trot of our feline friend.

We got back to our fire and Edward regaled me with the requisite tale of the one that got away. It was this big. I couldn't get the smile off my face while he told his story with wild excited gestures and animated inflection. I heard about kitty jumping into the clear shallow pool where Edward had been patiently catching minnows with his bare hands. She scared the school of bait away, which is partially why the expedition took so long. At least they had come to an amicable understanding after that.

He told me that she sat alert and watchful on the edge of the enormous underground lake, perking at the sounds of fish jumping in the darkness, while Edward baited his hook and patiently dragged his line back and forth to lure a bigger fish to bite.

He had made it home with six fat little fish ranging between eight and ten inches. He said he had promised the entrails to kitty for her "help".

So after I made him a welcome-home cup of tea, he took the knife and the fish and headed to the exterior mouth of the cave to clean them and gather some pliant twigs on which to spit the fillets for cooking. Kitty followed him of course, and I dozed with a growling stomach, anticipating my first hot meal in - I couldn't even remember how many days.

Edward came back drenched but smiling proudly with his spits. Kitty pushed her way in front of the Mylar wall and stretched as close to the fire as she could get, licking her lips and satisfied to have been fed. I was glad that my earlier bargain with her had been fulfilled. When we'd split up just before the rain broke out, I'd felt bad for never providing her the second promised meal.

She slept contentedly while I made Edward dry off and relax, and I held our fillets over the smoky flame.

"Could use some lemon or salt," he said while we devoured the food. I only smiled at his teasing. Bland and fishy though it may have been, it was still ambrosia.

Edward pulled me into his arms when the fish was gone, and we slept in contented tranquility.

The concepts of day and night had become strangers to us in our sunless hole. When one of us ventured into the elements for water and wood, we were always surprised that it was light or dark outside. Time was meaningless.

So after our feast, we napped and then stirred and chatted comfortably. Then we kissed and petted and divested ourselves of clothes and I taught Edward what mouths and tongues and lips and teeth could do.

* * *

**Thank you to everyone who has shown me support and good humor today when i found out that some punk-ass kid was ripping this story off & peddling it as her own. I have no idea what compels that kind of behavior, but I feel a bit sorry for uncreative people who want so desperately to express something that they steal someone else's expression. That's just pathetic. **


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer:  
I made all of this up. I do not claim to know anything at all about any of this. I made up the whole Xtabalz'n culture, the name of which I also invented out of nothing, intending no offence to anyone. I have no knowledge of anthropology, pre-Columbian cultures, South American islands, prehistoric religions, hieroglyphs, survival skills, predators, florae, fauna, fungi, WWII, the IRS, or the function of a consulate. This is ALL FAKE. Furthermore, all publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story is told in alternating points of view. This chapter contains content intended for mature audiences.

This plot, such as it is, belongs to ME.

* * *

Chapter Fourteen

"Let me teach you what a mouth can do." Bella met my lips with hers and began the intense dance of our tongues. Our clothes all fell away and my hands reached for familiar places.

All too soon, I was distracted by the new sensation of Bella's tongue in my ear. I moaned and my hands fell to my sides while she writhed over me and did wonderful things to my neck. I felt goose-bumps erupt over my body, and I shivered. She hummed appreciatively against my throat and continued her slow and thorough tonguesploration.

I soon learned that a mouth can do amazing things.

Bella gently bit my jaw. She tugged lightly at the stubble, just enough to make me gasp quietly. She gnawed playfully on my collar bone and sucked the skin from the hollow of my neck until I felt a gentle sting. She kissed my shoulders with an open hot mouth, and then pulled away, leaving the cool air to chill the flesh that missed her contact.

She slowly dragged herself lower, and her mouth began its teasing worship of my torso. She licked my pecks, sucked on my nipples, bit at their sensitive points with sharp playful nips. She traced each of my ribs with her tongue, causing the muscles of my abdomen to quiver excitedly with each wet brush.

Bella kissed my navel for so long and so sensuously that I thought I might explode from it. Her tongue traced and dipped and taunted. It pressed flat and then poked lightly. Every warm sensation tickled and triggered a pulse of unbearable desire much lower in my body.

All the while, I groaned and tried to stroke her back or run my fingers through her hair, but the feel of her mouth all over me stole my strength away, and I was incapable of touching her at length. So mostly I just lay there at the mercy of her mouth, groaning and then reveling in the sound of her answering little moans.

When she traced the line of hair that trailed from my navel downward, I nearly came undone. She placed a wide circle of small kisses all the way around my penis and then lay on her stomach between my legs to run her hot tongue over my balls.

I grabbed her hair ferociously. "Bella!"

She gently scooped my testicles into her mouth with her tongue and then clamped her lips around them. I felt the sharpness of her teeth along the edges and the soft pressure of her tongue in the middle. And then she slowly swallowed all the air out of her mouth and it was just hot, magical sensation. I fought back to keep from exploding over her face. She moaned, and I yanked her hair roughly, nearly losing complete control of myself.

I was gasping when she released my balls and then placed the flat of her tongue on the vein that protruded on the underside of my shaft. She dragged her body upward, slowly gliding her mouth along that vein, never breaking contact until my penis jerked violently to the side. She laughed playfully and pursed her lips into a tiny O and blew on the wet, sensitive crown.

My heart pounded so erratically with anticipation that I thought my arteries might soon explode.

Finally, she opened her mouth wide. I watched her slow teasing approach. When her mouth gaped near enough to close over the tip, she hovered there, not touching me, building an excruciating anticipation. Then she whispered, "Ha!" and the quick blast of warm air elicited another twitch from me and a giggle from her.

Then Bella looked into my eyes and closed her soft pink lips over my throbbing penis.

I moaned shamelessly, and my eyes were glued to hers as she slid downward, slowly downward, until I felt the sensitive head hit the back of her throat.

I yanked at her hair again, and she pulled back up, inhaling deeply while her tongue shielded me from her bottom teeth. Against my will, totally overcome by instinct and desire, with my fingers tangled tightly in her hair, I guided her mouth up and down, slightly faster, slightly faster, until a series of violent thrashing spurts shot into her. She closed her mouth very deeply over me and swallowed and swallowed and then licked and licked until all traces were gone. I lay insensible, groaning in the twisted pairing of agony and ecstasy. I stayed immobile but twitching like a hot corpse against the sweat-drenched poncho on the ground.

I was sated on sex and sleep and food, and I held Bella tight as we nuzzled and fell comfortably into conversation.

"I think there's another mouth to the tunnels on the other side of the big lake," I mentioned. "I occasionally heard a low whistling sound down there, like wind."

Bella nuzzled my shoulder and then reached to pick up her maps. "Hmm," she contemplated whilst thumbing through them. "If there's another entrance, it should at least be marked on the surveys."

She spread out several photocopied eight-and-a-half-by-eleven pages and began holding them side by side in different combinations to match up the lines. I helped her. It was like doing a large, simple jigsaw puzzle.

Finally we had the general shape of the island laid out. A few edges were cut off, but Bella was able to find the sheets of paper that corresponded to the several square kilometers we needed to scour.

I pointed at some apparent caves marked a few kilometers from the northern coastline. "Maybe here?" I asked low against her neck.

"But I don't think that's the right direction."

I peered over her shoulder, petting her hair while studying the black and white survey maps and comparing them to satellite photos.

We worked like this in silence until I remembered something else that had fallen to the back of my mind while I'd been regaling her with fishing tales. "I think maybe the tribe looking for a virgin to sacrifice aren't the only people on Isle Esme."

"Besides us, you mean?" She planted her chin on my shoulder and regarded me.

"There were footprints around the lake. Boot prints. The ground gets really spongy around the other side of the water, and there was an acrid burnt smell. Kitty wouldn't get near that area. Her reaction freaked me out, so I didn't explore it too much."

Bella frowned and looked over at the fearsome sleeping predator. "What would kitty be afraid of?" she asked.

I shrugged, unable to think of anything, then added, "Oh, there's something else you'll want to see. I almost didn't notice it myself. But when I went to mark the wall with chalk, I found graffiti of all kinds."

"Graffiti?"

I nodded. "There was old Spanish, obviously carved hundreds of years ago. And glyphs, thousands of years old, if you ask me."

"Well well," her eyes lit up. "We definitely need to check that out."

We dressed immediately. She was eager to explore. I decided I'd fish again as long as we were going to the lake. I wanted to eat well at least once more before testing the theory that we could take a jungle-free short cut to the coast by traveling the distance underground. Bella gathered up her maps and chalk and the canteen and we set out knowing that the next time we returned to our little Mylar love nest would be the last.

The walk to the underground lake took just under an hour. I first showed Bella the spongy growth and boot prints on the lee side of the lake.

Bella's reaction was, "Ew. Some small-footed man is wearing ridiculous pointy-toed boots." She noticed the acrid smell as well and walked the perimeter of the area until she found a massive scorched section of wall. Where once the stone had shone pearl-white, it was now chalky black.

"Someone camped here?" I puzzled.

Bella didn't answer. She simply turned and walked back to our side of the lake where the ground was solid and the stench was faint.

Next, I led her to the wall covered in old words and older symbols. I abandoned her there, engrossed in the carvings, and I lit a match at the edge of the shallows to find minnows. This distracted Bella and she tried to press the light on me, but I convinced her with kisses and deft groping that I could fish by touch. Bella appreciatively squeezed me and then turned to immerse herself in the wealth of information on the ancient stone.

"I've seen this one before! It's on my map," she called. I looked over to where she was illuminated like an angel on a stained glass window against the pearlescent white wall. She pulled out the worn and folded paper and scanned it for the symbol. I propped my baited pole under kitty's massive paw and made my way over to see. Bella turned the paper over so that the blank side faced her, and she pressed it against the carving, gliding her chalk over the relief.

By the time the rubbing was complete, I had managed to jog its meaning from my memory. "That's the 'Precious Food' symbol. The one you wrote about."

She puzzled a moment. "You mean the 'The Meat of God'?"

"No. I mean, yes," I explained, only somewhat distracted by the radiant beauty of her excitement. "My mother worked for years on translating the glyphs from the original. All the texts you reference in your books are translations from the Spanish or Portuguese. No one before my mother worked the glyphs directly into English."

Bella nodded for me to continue without taking her eyes off the wall. I moved closer to drag a careful index finger over the ancient carving in front of us. "As you know, similar pre-Columbian hieroglyphs are like conjunctions. Two symbols married together to have one meaning."

"Tell me something I haven't known for over a decade, Edward."

"Sorry." I traced the top symbol. "This half of the glyph can mean 'something of great value'. It was often attached to the symbol for an animal they worshipped to make the glyph as a whole into the name of that animal god." I paused briefly to admire the beautiful excitement on her face. "But without that attachment, it doesn't generically mean 'god' as previously postulated. It simply indicates 'something of value', something precious."

"Treasure." She was utterly breathless at this idea and stared with curious intensity into my eyes.

"Could be," I continued, at a loss to respond adequately to her mysterious excitement. "And this half of the glyph, the one originally believed to mean 'meat' because it was always attached to a food animal, has also been found attached to fruits and roots."

"So on its own," she took over, "it isn't 'meat' but 'food'." This was her passion - her area of expertise, and I could see the joy of finding out something new about it in her eyes. "So according to your mother's research, 'Meat of God' becomes 'Precious Food'."

"Yes, but it's just semantics. They practically mean the same thing. And call it what you will, the rest of your work on their ancient medicinal uses of plants and fungi is still valid. The Xtabalz'n people believed in a mythical cure-all, and they recorded it with this glyph."

"I don't think it was a myth."

"What?"

"Look at this map!" she insisted.

I held it up to my eyes and glanced over the glyph symbol on it.

"No, Edward," she shoved the paper closer to my face in exasperation. "Really look at it!"

I was utterly confounded. "Bella, what am I looking for? You've shown me this map a dozen ti-"

She shook my hand holding the map in frustration. "What does it look like to you?" she demanded.

I shrugged and held the paper further away. "I dunno. It's like an old pirate map or something."

"It's a treasure map!"

"What?"

"It's the treasure, Edward! Don't you see? I think the 'Precious Food' and this treasure map and your parents' research and mine and even the earthquakes are all connected."


	15. Chapter 15

**HOW DID YOU LIKE MY APRIL FOOLS JOKE?**

Disclaimer:  
I made all of this up. I do not claim to know anything at all about any of this. I made up the whole Xtabalz'n culture, the name of which I also invented out of nothing, intending no offence to anyone. I have no knowledge of anthropology, pre-Columbian cultures, South American islands, prehistoric religions, hieroglyphs, survival skills, predators, florae, fauna, fungi, WWII, the IRS, or the function of a consulate. This is ALL FAKE. Furthermore, all publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story is told in alternating points of view. This chapter contains content intended for mature audiences.

This plot, such as it is, belongs to ME.

* * *

Chapter Fifteen

I was in a daze of excitement as we took our weird white fish and pale blue rubbings back to our cave. Kitty stuck with Edward while he took the fish outside to clean them. She stayed out there eating all the discarded guts and parts when Edward returned with a pair of tripods made of twigs. He set up the spit with his new rigging and let the fish smoke while he carefully held the tin cup over the hottest embers to boil water for tea.

I took a moment to admire him, allowing my body to enjoy the thrill that surged through me as I watched him tend to our simple domestic chores. Then I spread all my maps out in front of me again.

I pinpointed the exciting glyph again on the photocopied ancient sailor's map.

I studied that quadrant of the island on the other maps. My breath caught each time I found the right spot.

"Look at this map! It has the same area marked. And this one. All of them. That's the pattern!" Everything points to the north side of the island where I saw the helicopter circling!" I rattled the papers excitedly.

"What helicopter?" Edward set the cup aside and looked at me with concern.

"Oh," I said. "I didn't want to worry you." I tucked my hair behind my ears, suddenly jittery under Edward's scrutiny.

"Well, how about worrying me now?" He spoke calmly as he turned the fish, but I could sense that it was a demand rather than an invitation to speak.

"When I scouted before - up in the tree…" I couldn't remember what day that had been, so I paused, confused. How long had we been running?

"Bella?" he prompted.

"Oh, right. I saw a helicopter circling this area of the island." I poked the map sitting in front of me.

Edward's eyes were dark with concern. He frowned at me with his hands on his hips, and the crease in his forehead made him look older. Timeless. He tilted his head, contemplating me, or contemplating the situation. He stood and stared intensely until I fidgeted and rolled and unrolled my paper map. All the while Edward was completely still, just watching me and generally testing the bounds of my anxiety and impatience before finally joining me by my side.

He sat next to me and silently reviewed my findings for several minutes. I jabbed a shaking finger at the circles, crosses, and markings on the various maps of Isle Esme.

"What's this?" he asked, pointing several centimeters above the red circle marked on the satellite image.

I took the page from him and squinted. "It's the outpost building?" I was puzzled. That building should be on the east side of the island.

"Bella!" He exclaimed. "None of these maps have directional markers," he shuffled through several photocopied maps. "They're just parts of maps."

I took each page as he scoured it and thrust it aside. He was right. Right, right, right.

"This one," he held one of the maps I had drawn myself twelve years ago. "This one indicates that the outpost is on the north side of the island."

I yanked my cartoonish scrawl from his fingers and turned it forty-five degrees until the familiar shape of the island fell into place.

I saw a little arrow drawn in one corner with the letter Z next to it in my scribble.

I stared confused.

Edward placed each of his hands over mine and gently rotated my arms until the little arrow pointed straight up with the letter N above it.

Oh.

I looked over the page into his eyes.

They were smiling and shining and loving and beautiful.

"Fuck, Edward!" I moaned, "I am such an idiot." I'd been trying to head us in the wrong direction the whole time because I simply couldn't hold a map right side up! I was humiliated.

Edward made a drawn out humming noise while prying the pages out of my hands and then stacking all my maps neatly under his folded tee shirt in the corner.

He took my face between his hands and kissed me gently, sweetly, nibbling timidly at my upper lip. Then he pressed his tongue against mine in a move that was anything but timid.

"You are hardly an idiot, Dr. Swan," he murmured in a low, dangerous, sexy voice.

Edward rose up on his knees and took my empty backpack and shoved our Mylar blanket into it. He then leaned me back on his clever make-shift pillow and smiled at me.

"You've saved my life several times over, Dr. Swan." He leaned close, kneeling between my legs, and kissed me senseless while deftly unbuttoning my shirt.

"I don't think an idiot could have made it here." He slipped the shirt over one shoulder and kissed it. "Or found me." He exposed the other shoulder and covered it in moist kisses. "Or rescued me." He buried his fingers in my hair and tilted my head so his mouth could have its way with my neck.

I whimpered.

"And I'm certain," he nipped at my earlobe, sending a shock through my body and causing both nipples to instantly harden.... "That an idiot," his warm wet tongue traced slowly around the shell of my ear... "could not have taught me this." He whispered over my throat and then clamped his warm wet lips over my neck.

I shoved my hands into the forest of his thick unruly hair and nipped at any part of his face I could reach while he licked and sucked at my collar bone and shoulders.

My body was already buzzing before his clever mouth even made it to my breasts. I shuddered uncontrollably when licked each heavy curve and then closed his teeth and lips first over one nipple then the other. I thought he would undo me with his hands gliding lightly over my ribs and his mouth working furiously hot and gentle on my tits. But the unbearable teasing had really only begun.

He took my mouth again roughly while I reclined against the pillow with my eyes rolled back in my head. He pulled me forward so my shirt could be completely discarded. And then his strong, sure fingers worked all my pant buttons loose and shimmied them off of me with alternating tugs of the left and then the right pockets over and over, til my hips were bare and my thighs were naked and my knees and feet pulled out of the fabric.

Edward's face hovered over my belly. He kissed it randomly all over like the pattern of stars sprinkled across the night sky. And then he licked a slick trail upward back to my breasts and drowned them in attention once again.

Meanwhile, his hands traced down my sides and caressed my hips. He dragged feather-light fingertips over my thighs, tickling me and raising goose-bumps. His touch and breath and tongue played together, sending a signal to the center of my body to prepare for unimaginable sensation.

My knees bent and my legs wrapped around him, pressing my dampened crotch against his stomach and eliciting a moan from both of us. Edward slid all the way down my chest and stomach then, stopping only when his chin pressed into my pelvis.

His eyes met mine briefly in the flickering firelight and then he ducked his face to plant a testing kiss or two upon my clit. I shivered, and my head lolled back. Edward's tongue cautiously slithered through the wet valley and folds between my legs. Each gentle sensation ignited another flame deep below my pounding heart and heaving lungs. The small fires joined up together, raging hotter, burning blighter with each new slow step in his exploration.

Soon, his tongue was no longer timid or cautious. His confidence picked up every step of the way, and before long he was licking me thoroughly. Hungrily. His hot wet mouth scalded and drenched my own wet heat. I felt his lips and chin grow slick as his explorations went deeper and deeper. I moaned outright when the rough stubble on the end of his chin prickled against my sensitive entrance. He dove lower then, nuzzling my clit while thrusting his tongue in and out of me in broad sloppy strokes.

Edward fucked me with his tongue until I was pent up like an over wound jack-in-the-box.

I began panting uncontrollably as I anticipated my climax. In and out. Up and down. He made small circles, wide circles, and drew crosses with his tongue. I groaned and pulled his hair. Hard. And he responded by tugging at my hips and shoving my knees to open wider to him.

He rubbed his chin along my slit again while blowing light cool air over my inflamed clit. I gasped.

"Fuck, Edward!" I couldn't think of anything better to say. At that point it was a miracle I could say anything at all.

The delicate abrasion of his chin was a sensation unlike anything I had felt before. He rubbed up and down in long, even, delicate strokes, opening his mouth to tease my clit with his tongue on each upward journey. He kept me teetering on the edge. Edward was a fast fucking learner.

When my body began to shake, my unsteady limbs completely giving out, my fingers going weak and losing their grip on his hair, he closed his lips over my clitoris, sucking it into his hot mouth. This detonated the most explosive orgasm I had ever experienced in my life.

New electricity energized my arms and legs quite suddenly, and I wrapped myself fiercely around Edward while he maintained a steady hot pulsing vacuum on my clit.

My screams echoed painfully loud, but I couldn't help myself. I thrashed my hips up and back with enough violence to do serious damage to Edward's face, but he held himself in place, riding up and down with me until every shudder ceased.

When I lay still again, panting and gelatinous from total release, Edward soothed my over stimulated skin with long, dragging laps. His tongue gently rubbing away the slick moisture that had escaped me, and that hot soft caress lulled me into a state of utter bliss and insensibility.

I woke up some time later to see Edward turning his slow-smoking fish fillets over the fire while plucking small flaky pieces off the stick. These he alternately placed into his own mouth or fed them to the cat, who watched him with a look of patient entitlement on her face.

I sighed, and he turned to me.

Slowly, a devious, one-sided smirk lit up his devilishly handsome face and he crawled over to me on his knees with a warm sliver of fish between his fingertips.

Edward leaned over me and kissed me, slow and sweet and then sat back on his heels and fed me by hand.

* * *


	16. Chapter 16

**HEY! IT'S TIME FOR THE SUPPORT STACIE AUTHOR AUCTION.**

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* * *

Disclaimer:I made all of this up. I do not claim to know anything at all about any of this. I made up the whole Xtabalz'n culture, the name of which I also invented out of nothing, intending no offence to anyone. I have no knowledge of anthropology, pre-Columbian cultures, South American islands, prehistoric religions, hieroglyphs, survival skills, predators, florae, fauna, fungi, WWII, the IRS, or the function of a consulate. This is ALL FAKE. Furthermore, all publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story is told in alternating points of view.

This plot, such as it is, belongs to ME.

* * *

Chapter Sixteen

I felt powerful.

I felt like I could rule the world.

I had made the most amazing woman on earth melt just by using my mouth.

I felt like a god.

She fell asleep afterward like a satisfied cat. The actual cat was curled around the fire pretending not to have noticed the commotion of the orgasm that Bella had just survived.

I sat for a while, just watching the love of my life sleep off her high. I soon realized my erection wasn't going to disappear on its own, so I rotated the fish on my cleverly constructed spit and left them smoking while I ran outside. I dropped my shorts on a dry rock just inside the cave mouth and then ran for the exposed mossy boulders looming in the pouring rain.

I climbed as high as I could on the slick wet surface, and I yelled. I just whooped as loud as I could. I called out with the full power of my lungs like a howler monkey. Then I collapsed laughing and lay back on the rock with the rain pounding over the entire front side of my body. I beat off to relax my penis and then I soaked up the water until I began to shiver.

I ran back to our fire with my shorts in my hand.

I basked in the smoky heat, rotating myself like the fillets on the spit, until I was dry again. I dressed in the drawstring shorts that I would be keeping, I decided, for the rest of my life. I'd frame them and hang them in my office with a little plaque that said, "These Shorts Symbolize the Discovery of the Most Impressive Manhood on Earth by Edward A. Cullen on Isle Esme, June-"

June something.

What day was it?

I shrugged. I'd figure it out later and put it on the plaque. I picked at the fish and tasted it.

I wondered if it was my birthday yet. The jaguar looked like she wanted to give her opinion on the fish, so I pulled off a taste for her as well.

I wondered when Bella's birthday was? I took another bite, suddenly feeling my hunger.

I know what I'll get her for her birthday. I smiled to myself and fed another bit of fish to kitty.

Those random, silly thoughts left my head when I heard Bella sigh.

I turned to her, and her face was all joy and flush and love. I smiled because I knew it was all for me.

I took another piece of fish and crawled over to her, placing a kiss and then a small bite of food against her lips.

Bella chewed and we kissed, and she slowly recovered from her sex glaze because the small bites of fish alerted her to the fact that she, like me, was ravenously hungry again.

I grabbed us each a skewer of smoked fish while she looked over her new notes again.

We ate and talked and mused, trying to figure out the bigger picture and then taking turns halfheartedly trying to convince one another that the mystery didn't matter. We just needed to get ourselves off the island.

Bella immersed herself anew in her maps, holding them all lengthwise for a change. She tried to wrap her head around our adjusted bearings, thumping at her dead GPS and cursing. Several times, she took the compass and geological maps and disappeared for half an hour at a time.

I stayed behind, packing our rations, disassembling my fishing pole, and making a farewell cup of tea for us to share.

After sipping the warm tea slowly, entwined together in front of the dying embers of our last fire, I pulled down the Mylar wall while Bella expertly arranged all of our belongings in her backpack.

Once she had her gun holstered and her compass in hand, I settled the pack on my shoulders as Bella and I had agreed before the rain.

I let Bella lead with the light. Kitty trotted alongside her like a loving companion. I still needed to get the story behind that remarkable friendship.

We reached the familiar dark expanse of the lake, and the jaguar stopped at the spot where she had watched me fish. When Bella continued walking toward the area covered in spongy growth, the cat growled.

We both stopped. I watched intently as the woman I loved approached the massive snarling predator.

Bella walked slowly up to the cat and held out a hand. Kitty thrust her nose forward and allowed her face to the scratched and stroked lovingly. Bella took a step back and said, "Goodbye, kitty," in a low voice.

The jaguar rose and trotted back the way we had come.

I remained silent, filled with a solemnity as Bella returned to my side. She gathered my hand in her warm fingertips and led me onward with a gentle tug.

The path around the wide black lake was narrow. Occasionally, the low whistling sound I had mentioned earlier rolled through the large cavern. Otherwise, the intermittent splash of a fish was the only sound to interrupt the echoing drop of each footstep as we trekked.

"Why did she leave?" I whispered some time later.

"Smells dangerous to her, I think," Bella murmured. "Whoever left the bootprints and the scorches on the wall may have threatened her, shot at her. I dunno." She shrugged dismissively.

I let that idea settle in the silence around us. To be honest, if we were heading into danger, I'd have liked to have two-hundred pounds of teeth and claws on hand. Instead, I concentrated on our surroundings, determined that if we were to face anything dangerous, at least it would not have the chance to sneak up on us.

To me, this part of the cave sounded like a massive vacant indoor pool area. In a horror movie, a tentacled monster would reach up at any moment and pull us to a watery death.

A small tremor nearly dumped us in the water without the tentacles and scary violin music.

We flattened ourselves on the floor as close to the wall as possible and held each other through the quake. It only lasted a few seconds and barely jarred us. Definitely tame compared to all the others.

When we finally made it around the lake, after at least a steady hour at a brisk but careful pace, I let out a low whistle at the dark expanse.

"Moria," escaped my lips in an awed whisper.

"Fucking hell, Edward. Could you at least pretend not to be a giant dork?" Bella took off ahead of me, muttering something under her breath that sounded like, "I can't believe I deflowered a goddamn nerd."

Thus began the part of the journey that would mean walking across the potentially unstable soft growth that covered the ground. The cavern remained wide and open as far as we could see. Stalactites were scarcer than in previous tunnels, and stalagmites were completely absent. Darkness spread beyond our field of vision in all directions.

If I had been creeped-out by the echoing silence of the underground lake, it was nothing compared to the absolute muffled quiet that enveloped the next phase of our journey.

We were both somehow loath to talk in the overbearing hush. The sound of my own breathing startled me as we groped along with our waning light, the spare batteries having already been used. The spongy ground frequently gave way under our weight, and we would slip, hand in hand, rolling several feet unscathed. It was like walking on one of those moon-bounce things, only softer and without the bounce.

"What the fuck is on the floor?" she whispered.

"Nothing." Revelation was more powerful than I could ever have imagined. "There's nothing ON the floor," I breathed. "It IS the floor." I scraped at the spongy form, and the earthquake knocked us down again, pulling us apart.

Bella screamed and dropped the light. I saw it shaking dimly on the ground without her.

"Bella!" I was being dragged like a marionette. No matter how hard I tried to roll in the direction of the sound of her voice, I only slipped farther from her. I dug my nails into the ground and was able to anchor myself and ride out the rest of the violent tremor.

It was several minutes before I was able to scramble to my feet again and stumble and trip my way toward the dim light that still lay on the cavern floor. I grabbed it and held it out at arm's length, pivoting from side to side and peering intently.

"Bella!" Curse the quiet. I yelled her name.

"Here!" Did she sound giddy?

"Bella?"

"Over here, Edward." She clapped her hands repeatedly, and I followed the sound. When we could finally see one another, we scrambled back together on hands and knees.

Bella was bright eyed and smiling. "That was fun!"

"What?"

"Oh, lighten up, Edward! It's not like we could get hurt in the ginormous Tempur Pedic cave." She pulled me on top of her. "See? I can even lay on my sore, bruised back with your weight pressing into me and it doesn't hurt."

She kissed me, and I was tempted to let go and dive head first into a sex romp on the space-age memory-foam, but the violence of that last quake was enough to shake even my powerful nineteen year old libido.

"Behave yourself, Dr. Swan," I said in a hushed voice while she sucked on my chin.

"Why should I?" She licked my Adam's apple.

That was an excellent question.

Oh. That epiphany I was having before. "Bella, you know that part in Star Wars where the Falcon lands on a squishy planet, only it turns out that they are inside of some giant creature?"

She laughed. "Edward, you are so lucky those Xtabalz'n abducted you."

"What?"

"You were destined to remain a virgin for the rest of your life."

The world trembled again, and Bella squealed and wrapped her arms and legs around me. We were bounced and rolled against each other. All the while, Bella giggled and tried to kiss me as I held on to her tightly while avoiding her kisses. With our luck, she would bounce her face into my chin and split her lip open or bite off part of my tongue.

When the shaking subsided again I said, "I think it's trying to spit us out."

"What are you talking about, you silly idiot?"

"The floor. It's alive."

Bella sighed and rolled us over and stood up. She offered me a hand, held the compass out under the dying light and once again led us north.

Walking through that squish was like walking in a sand dune. My quads soon began to ache like hell from the exertion. Bella slowed as well. It was more and more difficult to lift our feet and place one step in front of another.

But when a briny scent washed over us on the wake of one of those whistling noises, we perked up. We were close. Close enough to smell the ocean.

We picked up pace. Our light died out completely, and Bella kept her laser sight in hand. She periodically flashed it in an arc to make certain we still had open space before us.

It was impossible to make out the compass clearly by that light.

"Fuck!" Bella exclaimed when she tripped.

"Sweetheart," I knelt beside her. "Are you okay?"

"Of course, I'm okay, Edward. Don't be absurd." She petted my head reassuringly, but I felt like a puppy. "Turn around."

"What?"

"Edward turn around to I can get my fucking night vision goggles out of the pack."

I obeyed but asked, "You have night vision goggles?"

"Hopefully the case protected them from the water."

I felt her hands digging around in the pack. The entire world was pitch black, so I simply sat still, hoping her goggles still worked.

I heard a snap. Then a rustling. Then, "Eureka!"

"Really, Bella? You say 'Eureka'?"

"Shut up." I felt her zip the goggles' case back into the pack, and she helped me to my feet. My hand in hers, she walked more confidently now, the cool of the wall apparently registering as a faint blue, meaning that walking into pitch blackness was no longer a worry for her.

I tripped on exhausted legs and was about to insist we pause for an hour when we heard it. The sound of waves.

The smell of the sea had been constant for the past hour, but the sound was new and real. Bella squeezed my hand and kept me moving forward.

""Bella!" I exclaimed. "Look!" I pointed at a faint grayness shimmering in the distance. Bella propped the goggles on the top of her head, smiling at me. We ran hand in hand toward the light.


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer:I made all of this up. I do not claim to know anything at all about any of this. I made up the whole Xtabalz'n culture, the name of which I also invented out of nothing, intending no offence to anyone. I have no knowledge of anthropology, pre-Columbian cultures, South American islands, prehistoric religions, hieroglyphs, survival skills, predators, florae, fauna, fungi, WWII, the IRS, or the function of a consulate. This is ALL FAKE. Furthermore, all publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story is told in alternating points of view.

This plot, such as it is, belongs to ME.

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen**

We ran on jellied legs, egged on by the simple fact that the faint light grew ever-so-slowly less dim as we trudged ahead. We both fell several times, huffing and puffing, but we clambered to our feet again or merely drove forward a few steps on our knees in frantic desire to escape the dark cave and reach the seaside where we would have a shot at signaling a passing ship or plane.

Or that helicopter—if anyone was still searching for Edward.

There was no time to pause and worry that danger might greet us on the outside. We had been walking for hours and hours. And we had been running, scrambling on the soft surface for too long. We were exhausted and still being cautious with our water, for fear a fresh stream would be nonexistentonce we emerged.

We finally approached close enough to the cave mouth that we could see actual sky. It still poured rain out there, but the scent of the fresh ozone and sea brine mixed together on a soft cool breeze was intoxicating. The only trouble was that the narrow opening was set very high up on the smooth wall.

Edward and I slumped down on the soft floor to catch our breaths. I let my eyes wander over his features, more brilliant than ever in the faded light. I feasted on them after being blind to him for so long. Too long. Now that my eyes could see him again, I never wanted to have to look away.

I kissed him.

Not hungrily or frantically. I kissed him with love and need and hope. And Edward kissed back, reading everything I needed, and returning it in kind with soft wet lips against my mouth.

Too soon he pulled away and stroked my hair. He held my eyes in a searching gaze, longing to discover the answer to the question he had not asked me.

I let myself bask in that powerful scrutiny until he spoke.

"Okay, Bella. Here's my idea." He suggested that we cut one of the Mylar blankets into strips and tie the strips together like rope. I took out my knife and started cutting while he continued bouncing around ideas with me. He suggested weighting one end of our rope and tossing it out the 'window' leaving enough length dangling that we could reach it and climb out.

I countered that unless the weighted end lodged itself precisely on some anchor outside, as soon as we pulled the rope, the weight would be tugged back in on us, and knock one of us unconscious.

We worked and refueled ourselves with the last MREs and discussed escape plans. Edward even scouted around for loose stones we might be able to stack and stand upon so that if I were on his shoulders I could reach the 'window'.

"You know, we might as well try acrobatics," he said. "If we fall, we'll just land in this springy mush."

"Do you think you can stand with me on your shoulders?"

Edward nodded. "The only thing is getting the balance right. This floor is so unstable."

Edward knelt. I sat on his shoulders like a small child who wants to see over the crowd at a fair. Edward stood. We tumbled down in a heap.

We repeated this sequence seven times. At first we laughed, but eventually it was just frustrating. On the eighth try, Edward was able to stand tall by keeping his fingertips extended toward a small indentation in the wall. It provided him just enough of a grip to stay steady.

"Not high enough, I said. But if I stand on your shoulders I think I can make it."

Edward grunted, which I took as compliance. I dropped my boots to the ground and placed both heels on his shoulders, squatting like a nesting hen with a big Edward-head egg.

He gave me one of his strong hands for support, holding his balance against the wall with the other. Counterbalancing against his arm, I was able to fully extend my knees so that I was standing on his shoulders but bent all the way down at the waist.

"Okay," I whispered shakily, "slowly raise your arm straight up."

Working together, wobbling treacherously once or twice, we managed to stand me erect upon Edward's shoulders. I placed a palm flat on the wall for balance and reached the other hand high to the open ledge while Edward gripped my calf with all his might.

"Fuck, Edward. Ease up on squeezing my leg."

His fingers relaxed infinitesimally, and he mumbled some apology, but I was too busy stretching upward to notice.

"Damn it!"

"What is it? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." We were whispering to each other, our situation too tenuous and precarious to sustain loud noise. "I just need another half a foot."

We stayed completely still and silent for a full minute.

"Bella, put both your palms flat on the wall. Don't overbalance me."

I stopped reaching upward and complied. Edward gradually released his hold on the wall and placed a hand on each of my feet.

"I'm going to lift you higher."

"Okay," I whispered, nervous as hell.

Edward carefully picked up my left foot and then my right, moving his palms under my heels with excruciating care and precision.

My body was becoming stiff from the intense fatigue

"Ready?"

"Okay," I squeaked.

"Remember, Bella. If you fall, you'll just tumble onto the soft floor. Don't panic."

"Okay."

Then I felt the move. He was lifting me. His hands were shaking from the effort of lifting my weight, I kept my back and hips and knees locked perfectly straight and walked my palms up the wall by increments as I rose higher.

Finally, I was able to reach a fingertip outside.

Then a hand.

Then an arm.

I was giddy.

"That's it, Edward! I got something!" I had reached out blindly and closed my fist around a limb or root.

I tugged at it tentatively, and when it didn't give, I tugged harder. It seemed like it would hold my weight, so I pulled with all my might, but my arms were not strong enough to get me out of the hole at that angle.

"Can you give me another inch?" I gasped.

Edward complied. He must have risen up on his toes. And I was able to clamp both hands around my anchor securely before he fell.

Suddenly my feet were dangling, cold from loss of contact, and I heard Edward cursing softly. I smiled, because he had never cursed out loud in front of me.

I held on tight knowing that if I moved, I'd only compromise my grip.

"Okay." Edward breathed, obviously collecting himself. "Sorry about that."

"No problem," I answered.

"Uhh, so you've got the rope over your shoulder."

"Yup."

"Are you holding onto something you could secure it to?"

"In theory," I answered. "I'd need you to leverage me again."

"Getting to it."

I felt one of his warm hands then on my toes. "I'm going to slide your boots on. That will give you another inch. Then I'll get back into position and push you up."

Clever boy. "Perfect!"

I breathed steadily while Edward booted me. My fingers were beginning to go numb, But I felt him raise me again just in time.

That extra inch was all I needed.

I was able to keep hold of the tree with my left hand while pulling the Mylar rope up from my shoulder and passing it out and around the branch. Once it was securely looped around, I knotted it.

"One more minute, Edward," I called. I wanted to tie several knots, and I could feel him shaking like a leaf.

Finally, I let go of the branch, wrapped my fist around the rope and kicked off from Edward's hand.

I heard him fall again.

I felt around in the air with my right foot until it snagged against the Mylar, and then I twisted my foot to tangle the rope around it. I hoped that using my legs I'd be able to finally make it over the lip of the opening because by that time my arms were too weak to get the job done.

Alas, as soon as I tried to press up with my leg and move my hands, I slipped.

I tumbled softly right next to Edward.

"Shit," I huffed.

He leaned down and kissed me. "Excellent work, Dr. Swan." He smiled and tugged the rope that dangled easily within reach.

"Think you can climb up?" I asked.

"Pshht. I made straight A's in PE for four years. I can climb a rope."

I laughed at him and swatted at his hair, reclining a little out of the way to watch him.

His was no empty boast.

I couldn't imagine how he had the strength to do it after holding me up for so long, but Edward glided right up the rope like fucking Spider-Man or something. I watched in awe as his head and shoulders and torso and legs all disappeared out of the cave.

Seconds later his smiling face was poking back in at me.

"Well done!" I clapped for his brilliant performance.

Edward bowed and saluted me while laughing, and then his face disappeared.

"Edward?"

No answer.

"Edward!"

Just when I was beginning to freak out, his face greeted me again. "There's a helicopter!" he explained excitedly. "I signaled to it!"

I hopped to my feet. "Let's get the fuck out of here."

I shouldered the pack with all of our gear stowed away. Edward told me to tie the rope under my arms and around one of my feet. I followed his instructions and squeaked in surprise when he instantly started hauling me up.

At the last second, I reached back and dug my nails into the fleshy sponge of the cave floor. I soon found myself once more in Edward's arms with a chunk of it the size of a small housecat.


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer:I made all of this up. I do not claim to know anything at all about any of this. I made up the whole Xtabalz'n culture, the name of which I also invented out of nothing, intending no offence to anyone. I have no knowledge of anthropology, pre-Columbian cultures, South American islands, prehistoric religions, hieroglyphs, survival skills, predators, florae, fauna, fungi, WWII, the IRS, or the function of a consulate. This is ALL FAKE. Furthermore, all publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story is told in alternating points of view.

This plot, such as it is, belongs to ME.

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen **

That Dolphin Helicopter was the best looking thing I'd ever seen. It kicked up a blinding amount of sand as it landed on the beach. As soon as I had Bella out of that hole, I yanked her handkerchief out of her pocket and tied it over her face. Then I pulled up my tee shirt to cover my nose and mouth and took the pack from her as she cut the rope off of her body. When she was free, I grabbed her wrist and hauled ass to get rescued.

Bella screamed and tripped in the maelstrom of flying sand. I stopped to get a handle on her other wrist and pull her up. The hectic movement behind her caught my eye, and I squinted against the rain and sand and wind and light to see a dozen Xtabalz'n men coming up fast behind her.

I pulled Bella against my body when I saw they had blow darts. I shielded her, facing the gathering crowd, facing death, facing anything to keep her safe. She writhed behind me, trying to wrest her hands free of my grasp while we were pelted with all the wet detritus that flew in the cyclone stirred up by the Dolphin's props.

The tribesmen stopped about twenty meters away from us, and they lowered the reeds full of poisonous darts from their lips in a single motion.

Their penises all wagged back and forth in the heavy wind like dog tails. Their eyes were all wide, and for a moment, I thought they were alarmed by the giant helicopter that loomed behind me and Bella, but then I saw the truth.

They weren't staring at the helicopter at all. They were staring at me.

Confused looks melted to comprehension. And in a single mass, the men turned and began to disappear over dunes spread out along the beach.

"Why did they stop?" I yelled.

Bella pulled, and another hand grabbed my elbow, and I ran and stumbled and was half dragged the remaining distance to safety. And it dawned on me that she had been right about the magic. Somehow they had seen that I no longer fit the bill to be their sacrifice.

The man who'd taken my arm shoved us into the helicopter and shut the door with urgent force. As we lifted off the ground, he helped us into seats, buckled us securely and leaned breathlessly against the closed door. The pound of heavy rain against the hull of the ship could be heard over the roar of the whirring blades just before we were steady in the air.

I never let go of Bella's hand.

The man who had helped us aboard threw blankets over each of us and spoke loudly over the noise of the rotor.

"Edward Cullen?" he asked me.

I nodded.

He peered at Bella, obviously puzzled, but apparently decided to save the questions for an environment more conducive to chatting.

He handed us each a plastic bottle of cold spring water. It tasted like heaven itself. Bella rinsed her mouth and spit into her hanky before drinking greedily.

I then proceeded to wring water out of Bella's drenched hair, leaving small puddles of sandy mud on the blankets. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, soothed by my touch. Once the pilot had maneuvered us out of the rain and I saw Bella in real sunlight, my breath was stolen away. Her battered frame and bruised flesh that peeked out from the slipping blanket was stunning. Every scrape and scar was a testament to all she had done for me, all she had risked.

After several minutes of sitting comfortably in secure surroundings, I felt fatigue, exhaustion and weariness overcome me. Bella dozed, and I put my arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. She let her head fall against me. I pushed her hair out of her face and kissed her forehead.

We rode in silence like that for an hour, Bella deeply overcome by exhaustion while I let my drooping eyes glide over the passing horizon. I was barely awake when I heard chatter coming from the cockpit. The pilot was apparently getting us clearance to land.

We touched down, the door opened, and my father bounded right into the helicopter. He threw his arms around my neck before I could even unfasten my buckles, crushing Bella in the process.

"Edward! Oh Edward, you're alive!" He hugged me again and then seemed to notice the woman smashed between us.

He beamed at her but didn't release his crushing grip. "Oh, I'm terribly sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Bella mumbled.

"Dad, this is Bella Swan." I hoped that his respect for the eminent anthropologist would bring him back to his senses. "She rescued me and saved my life."

He paused for the briefest moment while this information sunk in and then he threw his arms around Bella's neck. She eyed me over his shoulder, bewildered and amused.

"Bella, this is my dad, Carlisle Cullen."

"Pleased to meet you," she mumbled against his shirt.

I smiled at her and then pushed Dad's arm away. "That's enough. Let her breathe."

He backed off, allowing the man who'd saved us and the massive pilot to help me and Bella onto solid ground.

We were hurried into a sterile looking white building and ushered to exam tables where a small woman with dark hair and wide eyes immediately began taking our blood pressures and temperatures and pulses, et cetera. She told the man from the helicopter that we were "clear," and he began asking questions.

"Dr. Swan, what were you doing on Esme?" And "Why were the locals trying to kill you?" And "How did you survive all that time?"

About thirty seconds later, my mother barged in, and the whole hug, introduction, hug routine was repeated. Mom couldn't keep her hands off of me, fretting over each bruise and cut, fussing over how awful I looked, and declaring it was a miracle I was alive.

Bella and I were pulled into different rooms without a chance to so much as hug each other again or exchange numbers or anything. As she disappeared through a door, I heard her voice, my ears only catching snippets like "treasure, Xtabalz'n, and cave."

I was given a place to shower and shave and a new set of clothes. The entire situation was surreal. I was hungry and exhausted, and I felt utterly hollow without Bella's hand in mine.

When I was clean and apparently declared to be healthy enough to travel, I was swept into a car. For a moment, excitement pounded in my chest because I just knew Bella would be in the car waiting for me. But she wasn't. Instead, I was greeted by the young man from the helicopter and my beaming mother.

"Son, this is Jasper Hale." I shook the man's hand. "He is the man responsible for finding you today." I smiled, weary but grateful, and shook his hand again.

"I work at the Consulate," he stated with a slight Texas accent. He offered no further explanation, and I really had no appetite for details at that point, so I just turned to my fussing mother.

I spent the rest of the car trip with her telling me how much better I looked without the scruff and how badly I needed a haircut and how awful the bruises on my wrists were. She never stopped talking, either sensing that I was too weary to tell my story or because she was just completely beside herself that I was in one piece.

Probably both.

I read the sign on the black gates as they opened up for us. We rolled right in to the American Consulate.

The car door was opened for me before I could even reach for it. Jasper Hale led the way through into the building, stopping in front of an elevator. All the while my mother kept her arm looped securely through mine, in case anyone was lurking down a side corridor waiting to swoop in and steal me.

I paid no attention to anything at all until a heavy wooden door opened, and my eyes fell upon Bella. She was gazing up at a framed map on a wall. I dropped my mother's arm and flew across the room, and Bella turned just before I grabbed her.

We threw our arms around each other and kissed like we had been apart for a decade.

I didn't care that I had just snubbed my mother or that I could hear my father clearing his throat or that Jasper Hale was standing somewhere behind me. I bit and sucked at Bella's lips and forced her mouth open and nearly fell over with the force of the heat that ignited inside me when her tongue pressed flat and hungry against the roof of my mouth.

"Isn't that Dr. Swan?"

"Yes, dear."

My mother and father seemed nonplussed by the way I eagerly greeted Bella, but the sounds of their voices caused her to pull away from me. I nearly whimpered at the loss of contact.

It was Jasper Hale who broke the awkward silence. "I've got a plate of sandwiches coming up here, if y'all wanna have a seat." He gestured to the plush leather sofa and armchairs in front of an ornate hearth.

We sat, Bella and I, together on the sofa, Mom on the other side of me, and Dad and Mr. Hale in the armchairs. The brass name plate on the broad mahogany desk across the room read 'Stefano Meyer'.

Mr. Hale noticed my gaze and spoke, "This is the office of the Consular General. Stefano Meyer," he gestured around the room, "is an aficionado of pirate lore. He collects treasure maps, and spends his free time on local islands hunting for lost pirate gold." At this point the story was interrupted by an elaborate tea and sandwich cart. Bella and I both filled plates immediately while Mom poured cups of tea.

"This map here," he continued, pointing to the map that Bella had been studying, "is the prize of his collection."

"Nasf Ilv Ezzne!" I exclaimed, pointing with my ham sandwich.

"Don't speak with your mouth full, dear."

I glared at Mom, but Mr. Hale just continued his story despite the interruptions.

"Yes, it's Isle Esme. And Stefano has been looking for the fabled treasure on that island for over two years. I believe that in March he began dynamiting the caves to try to uncover treasure chambers."

"The earthquakes!" Bella exclaimed. She was so adorable when she was excited. And so beautiful now that she was clean. I stared at her in a daze until a clump of tuna fell out of the new sandwich in my hand. Mom dabbed at me with a napkin, and I swatted her away.

"Exactly, Dr. Swan," he agreed. "Stefano is meant to be a liaison between the Brazilian government and American agricultural interests who own a great deal of land here. In December, my old Navy buddy Emmett, who flies helicopters for the Consulate, told me about a raid he had flown in which Stefano seized a cargo of dynamite."

"Why would the American Consular General seize dynamite?" Dad asked.

"Stefano's report stated that it was destined to blow some rainforest away to make room for cattle ranches."

"Well, that's just terrible."

"Yes it is, Mrs. Cullen," he agreed. "Then in March, when I arrived here to review departmental spending, I noticed Stefano had used unauthorized funds to ship a large cargo of TNT to Isle Esme, of all places. Once again, my old buddy Emmett had flown the cargo. When I asked him about it, he said there was no doubt it was the same stuff. The crates were numbered. He had the paperwork to back it up."

I listened halfheartedly while watching Bella chew and furrow her brow. Adorable.

"So," Mr. Hale sighed, "I knew I had a pretty big misappropriation of funds case on my hands. I started researching Isle Esme to try to figure out what was up. And what I found was earthquakes. I put two and two together. That map of Isle Esme, being key."

"What did that have to do with Edward, though?" Bella asked.

"Well, like I said, I caught on to the shady spending back in March. I warned Stefano that I would personally approve or decline his departmental invoices going forward. When y'all showed up," he jutted his chin at Mom and Dad, "and reported your story to Stefano, he looked at it as a chance to allocate funds for a search and rescue operation. But he really wanted the money for picking Isle Esme apart. He knew I couldn't disapprove a requisition to send an expensive team to rescue a twelve-year-old American boy."

Mom spoke up, outrage bitter in her voice. "That's why he insisted on lying about Edward's age!"

"Yes ma'am."

"So Edward really was just a red herring for a treasure hunt." All eyes were on Bella as she mused.

"Well, yes ma'am, Stefano got me to sign off on a search party, then he took the money and loaded a bunch of mining equipment into Emmett's chopper and left Edward for dead."

"What a scoundrel!" Mom yelled.

Jasper Hale nodded agreement, "Yes ma'am. But I had been waiting for him to make a mistake like this. And Emmett alerted me right away. Now that Edward is safe and sound, I will file my paperwork against the Consul." He smiled with slight satisfaction but then turned back to Bella. "But with all due respect, Dr. Swan, it still doesn't explain what you were doing there."

Mom and Dad leaned forward in rapt attention. Bella blushed and stammered and began her side of the story.

"Well, um, as you know-" I grabbed her hand and rubbed small circles on her palm to comfort her. Bella took a deep breath and soldiered on. "As you may know, I spent some time studying the Xtabalz'n on Isle Esme several years ago. So, when I just happened to hear the kidnap story on the evening news, my ears perked up. It's such an out-of-the-way place. What were the chances?"

Everyone nodded at her and she went on. "At first I was frustrated at the lack of details available on the story. So I, er, found a way to, umm-" she eyed Jasper Hale warily, "Can this part be off the record?"

He smiled bemusedly and waved her on.

"I hacked into the servers and watched the video of your report, Mrs. Cullen. The earthquakes really surprised me. When I had been on Isle Esme before it was totally peaceful. But from what I knew of Xtabalz'n culture, and because all the reports said Edward was a young boy, I surmised that the seismic disturbances were bad news."

She looked my parents each in the eye and waited a second, as though they would catch her drift without it being said out loud. When nothing registered on their faces, she squeezed my hand gently and went on. "The Xtabalz'n would practice blood rituals to appease gods. Traditionally, to appease a _very _angry god who was violently shaking your land, a precious tribute would be in order."

Again, Bella paused with intent. "I realized that all signs led to human virginal sacrifice."

I could not lift my eyes from my lap. I heard my father clear his throat, and I felt the sofa shift as my mother fidgeted beside me.

At that moment, the door burst open, and a small mustachioed man flew into the office.


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer:I made all of this up. I do not claim to know anything at all about any of this. I made up the whole Xtabalz'n culture, the name of which I also invented out of nothing, intending no offence to anyone. I have no knowledge of anthropology, pre-Columbian cultures, South American islands, prehistoric religions, hieroglyphs, survival skills, predators, florae, fauna, fungi, WWII, the IRS, or the function of a consulate. This is ALL FAKE. Furthermore, all publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story is told in alternating points of view.

This plot, such as it is, belongs to ME.

**I HAVE NOT HAD TIME TO REPLY TO REVIEWS AT ALL LATELY. I DO READ ALL OF THEM AND LOVE ALL OF THEM AND APPRECIATE ALL OF THEM. I'M SO SORRY I HAVEN'T BEEN ABLE TO RESPOND & LAUGH AND ANSWER QUESTIONS, BUT I WILL MAKE AN EFFORT TO GET TO IT WHEN I HAVE A CHANCE. UNTIL THEN, PLEASE KNOW THAT YOUR WORDS ARE APPRECIATED AND TREASURED. THANK YOU!**

* * *

**Chapter Nineteen**

I sat next to Edward on the plush sofa. My entire body ached, but as long as my thigh was against his and my shoulder was flush with his arm and he was safe and breathing and eating beside me, I knew everything was all right.

His face was younger somehow. He looked gaunt and wan, and I wondered how he had looked before being captured. The way his mother fussed over his appearance gave me some clue. He had been to hell and back. The scars were not just on his wrists. He carried them buried deeply behind his eyes, as well. For even though his face appeared younger when he was clean shaven, his eyes belied experience well beyond his years.

I lost myself in watching Edward and then listening to Jasper Hale. So the pilot who had flown to search for us in the pouring rain was his old Navy buddy. If Jasper was ex-military, I wondered which branch he worked for presently. He indicated he had only been in Rio for a few months. I figured he was FBI.

He talked a little about the fabled treasure. I thought about the maps and glyphs and ancient traditions of the island. The Meat of God. The Precious Food. The soft growth that engulphed the entire floor of the northern caverns.

My attention thus split between the handsome young G-man, my handsome young lover, his doting parents, some tasty sandwiches and my own thoughts, I was startled when the door burst open.

"So!" A wild-eyed man exploded into the Consular's office and pointed a finger at Jasper Hale. "It was you!"

Both Jasper Hale and Edward's father rose and faced the crazy man.

Mr. Hale replied. "Yes, Stefano. It was me."

"Stefano!?" Edward's mother exclaimed.

He turned distractedly toward her for a moment and gave a slight stiff bow.

That was when I noticed his feet.

I nudged Edward pointedly in the ribs and gestured toward Stefano's feet. My darling boy just looked at me, puzzled. I raised my eyebrows insistently and turned my attention again to the floor on which the insipid man stood. Edward finally grasped what I was trying to say. I almost couldn't stifle the giggle as I watched realization dawn over Edward's face. Stefano Meyer had tiny feet and ridiculous pointy-toed boots.

The cretin then opened his mouth to dispense wrath upon his nemesis. "You Judas! You betrayer! You approved the expedition! I thought we had an understanding!"

"No, sir. We did not." Jasper Hale was calm and cool. "In fact, I'll be seeing you in court, and I'm going to do everything in my power to help these good people prosecute you, too."

Stefano Meyer looked aghast and turned to Dr. Cullen. "You can't press charges against me! There's no government on Isle Esme, and I'm American. Only the reclusive owner of the island would be able to extradite me and press charges - and only if he happens to be American, as well!" He concluded his speech in a jubilant tone with an evil laugh.

Edward and I grasped each other's hands tightly as the tensiion in the room buzzed uncomfortably. At that point, the female Dr. Cullen rose to her feet. "Don't you know who owns the island, Mr. Meyer?"

"I only know that some eccentric millionaire bought it from Brazil in 1956. As far as I know, he hasn't been heard from since."

"Well, I've heard from him, Mr. Meyer."

The scoundrel's face blanched. "You've…heard…from…him?" The words seemed to stick to his tongue, necessitating that he spit them out with force.

"Frequently," she answered coolly. "He's my father." She stood and faced the terrified bureaucrat with steady eyes. "I'm Esme Cullen, and I will be prosecuting you to the full extent of the law."

With that, Jasper Hale pressed a buzzer that conjured a burly security guard. Stefano Meyer was escorted out, spluttering, huffing, and thrashing his silly boots in the air along the way.

A victorious silence filled the room. I cleared my throat and asked, "Mr. Hale, are you CIA or FBI or something?"

He smiled. "No ma'am. I'm an accountant."

He handed me a business card on his way to the door.

"Jasper Hale. Internal Revenue Service," I read aloud.

Mr. and Mrs. Cullen stood arm in arm, ready to follow our heroic IRS man out the door.

"You see, sweetheart," Dr. Cullen addressed his wife, "even when you think no one is paying attention, there's always the IRS."

She patted her husband's hand and turned to me. "Dr. Swan," she smiled warmly, every trace of the anger she had unleashed upon the Consul erased from her lovely features. "I hope you don't mind that I've booked you a suite at the Copacabana Palace where we're staying. They have a lovely spa."

I stood, refusing yet to be overcome by the weariness that clawed at me, and took her proffered hand. "Please call me Bella." She smiled warmly. "Thank you so much. I could use a massage like you can't imagine."

"Wonderful! Then you'll also come to our little birthday dinner tomorrow night?"

I looked to Edward who had a delicious frown creasing his lip.

"Birthday?" I asked.

"Is it tomorrow?" Edward interjected.

His mother grabbed his arm, eager to leave, "No, sweetheart. It was yesterday."

He let her lead him to the door, but I hung back. My heart constricted as I watched him walk away. I knew I'd see him again. I'd just made dinner plans with his family, after all. But the last several days had been hard and fast, and that was how we were connected to each other: hard and fast. The glue was set, and his mother was ripping him away from me, taking some skin and meat along for the ride.

Edward paused at the threshold, like he could feel it, too, and gave his dad a meaningful glance. Dr. Cullen scurried his wife out of the office and closed the door.

Once again, I was finally alone with Edward. He stood too far away, but as long as he was still in the room, the tight constriction in my chest relaxed. I turned away from him, reluctantly, to hide the moisture in my eyes. I stood wearily and stared up at the framed map of Isle Esme on the wall.

"Look at this, Edward," I called. He hurdled a chair to be by my side, and my heart pounded. "You recognize this?"

When Edward didn't answer, I turned my face to find him staring at me as if I were beautiful. I felt my face grow warm, and I wondered if I would survive the day when he no longer looked at me that way. I slipped an arm around his waist and we looked up at the map together.

"It's the one you have the photocopy of." He reached up. "There's the glyph symbol."

"Yes, and look what it says here," I pointed. "This is the corner that got burnt off of my map."

My Spanish was rusty, but I roughly translated the words in my head as Edward read them aloud, "The heathens celebrate Eucharist for long life."

"Edward," that familiar excited thrum was pounding in my chest, and Edward's eyes glowed anew. "The Eucharist is the body of Christ. '_Meat of God_'_. _'_Precious Food_'!"

"So the treasure _is _the 'Precious Food' like you guessed."

"Yes." I stretched up onto my toes and kissed him. He was my precious food. "And I think your father ought to have a look at _this_." I pulled the giant clear plastic bag out of my backpack and handed it over.

"The cave stuff?"

"Don't you see? This is the treasure! This growth is the 'Precious Food' and the 'Meat of God'. Those idiots who are dynamiting the rock away in hopes of finding a hoard of pirate gold are destroying the real treasure. _This_ is the miracle curative your parents have been hunting for! It's the legendary treasure that brought long life and good health to the Xtabalz'n of Isle Esme since the very beginning!"

Jasper Hale's voice infiltrated the room over a speaker. "Edward, your parents are waiting for you."

I hesitantly released his waist, relinquishing my claim on him. He didn't belong to me. He was his family's treasure. Edward took the plastic bag and walked to the door. He turned with his hand on the knob, and I waved good-bye, willing myself to hold the tears in for just a few minutes more.

Edward paused, and a shadow came over his features. He crossed the distance of the room again instantly and grabbed my hand, pulling me into a passionate embrace and profound kiss.

"You can't wave me out of your life, Bella. I love you."

I intertwined our fingers together in an unbreakable clasp while my heart beat itself into a frenzy. I kissed him again, as importantly as I could, and we walked out together to face his parents and whatever came next.


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer:I made all of this up. I do not claim to know anything at all about any of this. I made up the whole Xtabalz'n culture, the name of which I also invented out of nothing, intending no offence to anyone. I have no knowledge of anthropology, pre-Columbian cultures, South American islands, prehistoric religions, hieroglyphs, survival skills, predators, florae, fauna, fungi, WWII, the IRS, or the function of a consulate. This is ALL FAKE. Furthermore, all publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story is told in alternating points of view.

This plot, such as it is, belongs to ME.

* * *

Chapter Twenty

In the car, Bella handed the bag of cave stuff over to Dad, who got a Christmas look on his face. He poked at it with his fingers and sniffed it cautiously as Bella told him her theories. He promptly declared it some type of fungus and phoned Gianna, one of his field botanists, to bring slides and scopes and other equipment to the hotel.

Mom seemed wary of the way Bella held my hand. She looked eager to ask a thousand questions, but she held her tongue. I may have been pushing her maternal buttons when I threw my arm around Bella's shoulder and pulled her closer into my flank, but I couldn't help it. I'd told her I loved her, and she hadn't freaked out on me.

Okay, she hadn't said she loved me either, but she wasn't running, so I took that as a good sign.

"Dr. Swan, before Mr. Meyer stormed in and interrupted us, you were saying something about virgin sacrifice?"

Damn. I should have known Mom wouldn't be able to save the questions.

Bella coughed, and I felt her body stiffen against me.

"The tribe," she mumbled. "They would have sacrificed your son to stop the earthquakes."

"But the earthquakes were caused by Mr. Meyer," Dad interjected.

"From the look of Mr. Meyer, they could have sacrificed him instead," I joked. Bella rolled her eyes at me. I guessed it was too soon for me to take jabs at another man's prowess, considering I'd been a virgin myself not so long ago.

"The Xtabalz'n had Edward captive for days," Mom mused and then sniffled. She wiped her eyes on the edge of a tissue and peered heartbrokenly at my bruises again. Then a strange look passed over my mother's face. "I translated a good deal of the extant carvings on the island… They didn't…They didn't feed my baby boy any human blood, did they?"

I felt my own eyes widen and I joined my parents in staring at Bella.

"Well, yes."

"But," Dad stammered, "But Jasper told me that several of the Xtabalz'n men were on the beach when they finally found you. He said the tribesmen didn't chase you at all. They just gave up and let Edward go. If they had already spent days preparing him for the sacrifice, wouldn't they have fought you and Jasper and his helicopter buddy to get Edward back?"

My ears went hot. Bella's cheeks turned red. The temperature inside the car rose twenty degrees, and no one breathed.

After an eternity of stifling tension in the congested Rio traffic, I buckled and broke the silence. "Bella saved my life. It's okay, Mom and Dad. I love her."

Once the words were out of my mouth, I realized they weren't going to pop the bubble of discomfort crushing against us. Bella squirmed slightly between my arm and the leather seat. Dad cleared his throat thirty times. And Mom picked some imaginary dirt out from under a fingernail.

We were pulling in under the portico at the Copacabana in awkward quiet before Mom finally spoke. "Carlisle, perhaps you should just talk about this with Edward later."

Dad coughed. "Yes, dear."

The hotel seemed too big and too bustling and to shiny. After days alone in semi-dark with Bella and kitty, I was unnerved by the hoards of attentive valets and bellmen and attendants.

Portuguese buzzed all around, and my attention was automatically captured anytime I heard English, which came at me from all directions in snips and snatches. I stood waiting by a tall plant while Mom guided Bella to the desk- I assumed to claim her key. Dad was standing aside speaking with the concierge. I overheard arrangements for a private meeting room where he could set up some of his equipment for a few days.

All of a sudden, I was weary. And frightened. A nagging pain was eating at me: anticipation that the hellish ordeal of the past several days would give way to a whole new kind of hell. As terrible as my captivity had been, that unfortunate circumstance led me to the woman of my dreams, and I wouldn't change a bit of it. Except, perhaps, to prolong our time alone together. There was no doubt that absolutely everything had changed.

I saw Bella signing something and taking her key. She and Mom were having an animated conversation. I could tell that Mom was being too exuberant. Bella was tired. I wanted to run to her and throw my arms around her and shield her from whatever questions she was being made to answer. I wanted to guide her up the stairs and into a bed.

I wondered if any of that would ever be allowed to happen now that we were back on solid land where we have responsibilities and expectations and all of this overwhelming mass of humanity to deal with.

"Dear," Mom's voice broke me from my daze, and I looked down to find her suddenly in front of me. "You look exhausted. We have a set of suites on the eleventh floor." She pressed a key card into my hand. "I'm going to help your father set up some equipment down here. If he doesn't get to look at that specimen right away, he'll grump the whole rest of the night." She brushed a stray lock of hair off my forehead. "Go get some rest, sweetheart."

Mom kissed my cheek, and I kissed hers before looking around to scout out the elevators. Pushing through the busy lobby really confirmed how tired I indeed was. My legs felt like lead weights, and all the bustle of people was beginning to make my head hurt.

But the moment I saw Bella's face, all the rest of the hotel fell away.

She saw me too, and her round eyes widened and her pink lips parted just in time for the elevator doors to close, keeping us apart yet again.

I sighed and stepped forward when the bell dinged to announce the approach of another elevator car. I stepped in and waved my keycard in front of the sensor, which made the number eleven light up on the panel. I rode alone and silent, lost in my thoughts, longing for Bella, wondering how we could navigate the real world together.

Logic said that if we could survive Isle Esme, we could survive everything. But school and work and the real world looked a hell of a lot scarier than jungles, predators, earthquakes, pirates, sacrifice, and impending doom.

What was Dad planning to say to me? What had Mom said to Bella? What was my birthday dinner going to be like?

I felt discouraged by the time I stepped out into the hallway of the eleventh floor. There was no way any of this could turn out alright.

But just as I got to my door, I heard the ding of the other elevator, which must have stopped on every floor on the way up here because when I looked over my shoulder, there she was.

I froze.

Well, I froze on the outside. Inside, everything sped up into overdrive. I felt my blood rushing around and my heart pounding and my face muscles pulling into a smile.

Bella stepped onto the carpeted hall and paused. We stared at each other a moment. Then the bellhop stepped out from behind her and led her to a door down the hall and across from me. I watched her hesitate, and I willed her to abandon her room and just come to me. When the bellhop opened her door and said something in a low voice I didn't pick up, she turned her attention to him.

My stomach hurt, and my headache came back, and I felt too tired to stand anymore, so I dove into my room and shut the door.

I noticed that the room was bright. I squinted. I noticed that the bed looked inviting. I hopped onto it. I noticed that my shoes and the tag inside my shirt were uncomfortable. I took those things off. I noticed a knock at my door.

Bella?

I hesitated. It probably wasn't Bella. It was probably some food that Mom had sent up. Or maybe it was housekeeping with some towels or… Hell, I just rolled off the bed and answered it.

Bella.

She was beautiful. With her hair pulled back and dark circles under her eyes and chapped lips and those scrapes and cuts and bruises. Bella was beautiful.

Before I could even tell her that, she opened her mouth and took a deep breath and said the only words I would ever want to hear for the rest of my life.

"I love you too!"

* * *

Epilogue is up next.

Thank you for all the reviews. I read them all even if I don't get to respond. You're lovely for reading my silly story.


	21. EPILOGUE

Disclaimer:I made all of this up. I do not claim to know anything at all about any of this. I made up the whole Xtabalz'n culture, the name of which I also invented out of nothing, intending no offence to anyone. I have no knowledge of anthropology, pre-Columbian cultures, South American islands, prehistoric religions, hieroglyphs, survival skills, predators, florae, fauna, fungi, WWII, the IRS, or the function of a consulate. This is ALL FAKE. Furthermore, all publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story is told in alternating points of view. This chapter contains content intended for mature audiences.

This plot, such as it is, belongs to ME.

**

* * *

**

**Epilogue **

Edward held me in the car all the way to the hotel and looked into my eyes at every opportunity. He was waiting for it. He was begging for it. It was my turn. I had to say it. I had to tell him I loved him too.

I did my best to avoid the tension and the truth as I trailed my fingertips over the withering specimen of fungus bagged on the seat beside us. That mushy bit of fiber was the essence of so many dreams.

To the Xtabalz'n it was the key to survival and also a mythic bloodthirsty beast below the ground.

To the scientific minds inside the car, it was ostensibly the source of the quakes, a legendary El Dorado, and possibly the cure for cancer.

It had been responsible for virgin sacrifices, political coups, violent piracy, and international espionage for centuries.

But somehow, at the moment, I didn't give a damn about it. At the moment, I wanted to forget mythic treasure and ancient quests.

At the moment, the most important thing about the specimen in the bag was that it had caused me to cross paths with Edward Cullen.

When the car stopped, Edward's arms reluctantly released me, and he stepped out the door with his chin against his chest.

My knees buckled, and I sank into the leather seat.

Love.

Could he really love me?

It was truly unfair to doubt him. He was impossibly smart, incomparably handsome, decidedly earnest, and delightfully enthusiastic in all of his interests.

Could he really love me like I loved him?

I reveled in the feel of my swelling heart and the flush of love until sheer exhaustion prompted me to acknowledge the valet patiently holding the door open for me.

I would just go inside the hotel, find my room, take a long bath, and think.

A quiet part of my brain recognized the fact that Esme held my elbow, guiding me to the front desk. I felt a tug deep in my gut as I moved further from Edward, foot by foot. Once I had a key, she told me she would wait with her husband for some equipment, and Carlisle and Esme veered left of the lobby to the hotel bar. I heard my name and blindly followed the bellman waiting with an expectant smile. I dimly registered gliding doors, some dinging, and a lush carpeted hallway. Like an automaton, I stepped inside.

Then I saw Edward on the wrong side of the elevator doors. They slid closed, trapping me inside with strangers while the only person on earth that I wanted to be next to was lost behind a door with that forlorn look on his face.

He still wanted me. We stopped on the third floor. I still wanted him. We stopped on the fifth floor. The reasons for us to be together were strong and just. We stopped on the sixth floor. The reasons for us not to be together were feeble and outdated. We stopped on the ninth floor.

My fists were balled tighter than the lid of a pickle jar by the time the elevator car finally emptied of everyone but me and my bellhop.

Eleventh floor. I stepped out just in time to see Edward reach a hand out to the knob. He glanced at me. Did he smile? The bellman led me to my room, and Edward dropped his chin and turned, and just as I was about to say his name, disappeared inside his room.

Fuck the long bath and the thinking; I needed to start living the best days of my life with the man who'd just closed his door.

I pushed past the confused bellman and knocked at the room Edward had entered.

Several moments later, just as I was about to knock again it opened.

There he was, shirtless and scraped and bruised and beautiful.

"I love you too!" I blurted out. Like I was fifteen again, clueless, scared, inexperienced. And then I realized that aside from fifteen, I was all of those things with Edward. It was exhilarating.

We stared at one another dumbly for at least a full minute before that brilliant crooked devilish smile bloomed over his features. He grabbed my fingers and pulled me against his chest and closed the door with a decided click.

"Happy birthday?" I said lamely.

Edward laughed and kissed my mouth with decided fervor. "Thank you."

"That dinner should be interesting," I mumbled nervously. My hands shook. I realized that I was out of place in Edward's sunlit room. His parents might kill me.

Edward ran his hands down my back and pressed my body into his, and I felt better. I felt right. He understood me and my fears without them being stated, and he eased them without a word. "Don't be so paranoid, Bella," he murmured into my neck, causing an eruption of goose bumps across my flesh. "They love you."

I snorted.

He nuzzled my ear. "They loved you even before I did."

"Oh god, Edward. They're going to kill me."

"Shhh." His nimble fingers glided down my arms and around my hips while his lips traveled around my chin and up to my eyelids.

I felt myself begin to melt. I felt my fears dissolve. When he held me, I believed that nothing about us could be wrong. "You realize this means you can't be in my class, right?"

He moaned low against my temple and inhaled deeply, "But you're such a good teacher." I felt his hot tongue lick up my cheekbone.

"Oh shit! I'm gonna get some kind of reputation as a cougar or something."

Edward laughed. "Shut up, Bella." He kicked his discarded shoes out of the way and led me to the bed. "That reminds me, though. You never did tell me about kitty."

"Oh yeah." I smiled up at him and kissed him. "I found her. When I was on the island before. She was only days old. Abandoned by her mother-"

Edward nipped at my ear. "Poor thing."

"Ungh… Abandonment is fairly common amongst big cats who aren't good hunters or who are first time mothers. They know they can't keep the cub alive."

He pushed me back against the obscene mountain of feather pillows. "But still."

"Yeah." He pressed against me. "Still, she was… unhnhnh… fucking adorable. She was just screaming non-stop in her scratchy little voice-" Edward dragged a slow wet tongue over my jugular. "I followed the sound for about… ahhhhh… a quarter of a mile til I found her."

"You're an amazing woman, Dr. Swan." Edward shifted so he could begin torturing the other side of my neck.

"I like big cats?" It came out as a question because his fingertips were just teasing the hem of my shirt, randomly brushing against my stomach with a feather light touch. "So- uhh- I was determined to find the crying baby. And- annh- Oh Edward! I found her."

"I never doubted you." He gnawed gently on my collar bone, drifting his dangerous fingertips along my ribs.

"She had been clawing all over a felled tree with her shaky legs and blind eyes," I spat out all in a breathless rush. "And her tail was caught in a V of limbs."

Edward palmed my crotch. "V of limbs?"

"Fuck, Edward." I tried to capture his lips in a kiss, but he pulled away. Smug fucking clit-tease.

"What happened to kitty, Bella?"

"I grabbed her scruff, and she immediately shut up."

"Mmm. Magic fingers."

"Yes," I agreed, reveling in the feel of Edward kneading my thigh. "I tugged her free and ran back to camp with her." He dotted my shoulder with tiny, less distracting kisses, so I tried to rush the rest of the story. "I immediately took all the powdered milk from our supplies and started feeding her. The prof in charge of the expedition had a fit and threatened to send me home when he found out I had radioed for eight gallons of goat's milk."

"You're a heroine to big cats everywhere," Edward mumbled into my hair. He was back at my neck again, having completed a slow circle.

"So I kept her and raised her, feeding every two hours and then every four hours as she grew. Ahh, ow!"

"Sorry."

"She slept in my bag with me, and I played with her to strengthen her little limbs. By the time my three months on the island were up, she was strong enough to hurt me without meaning to."

"Just like me," he nipped.

"And just like you, she was hale and playful. I could hardly face leaving her."

Edward stopped molesting my throat with his tongue for a moment. "What happened to her when you had to leave?'

"One of the grad students who stayed on agreed to feed her. She could handle meat by then, so I paid for steaks and hamburger to be dropped in with the weekly supplies."

Satisfied with this answer, his hands dove up my shirt. "You think of everything," he said against my ear. The tickle of his hot breath sent a bolt of electricity through my body.

I shoved my hands into his thick hair, almost moaning at the new texture now that it was clean. "When he left, though- she was on her own. I didn't think I would ever see her again."

"We can go back." He settled on top of me and kissed me soundly. "Every summer. We'll visit kitty." His eyes lit up with a faraway daydream and I took over the task of licking and biting his face. "Mom wants to tear down the old outpost and build a house. We can honeymoon there."

Edward babbled on excitedly. I hardly knew if he even realized what he had just implied. I shut him up with kisses and he refocused admirably. Soon we were undressing one another, touching, exploring, crushing, brushing, and adoring.

Sweating and spent from his first ride on top, Edward huffed into my hair, "Did you feel that?"

"Mmmm," I replied. "I think it was an earthquake."

* * *

Thanks for taking this ride with me. I'm gonna concentrate on SANCTUARY for a while now-- check out lots more chapters of it over at Twilighted under my other name: Jfly-- and I have a story to write for Wolvesnvamps who won me in the Author Auction. I haven't asked her yet if that story will be made public or not. I guess stay tuned.


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